Ginger Snaps
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: The summer after Harry Potter's second year, some serious mental health help is called for. Unfortunately, that mental health help is only available on Spinner's End. Also, an extreme disguise is required for one of those needing help which is just going to make things even worse.
1. Recommended Treatment

**Ginger Snaps**

_**Author's Note**__: This work started as my 2013 NaNo attempt. I wanted to try something a bit different. You may be thinking, doesn't this author always try something a bit different. _

_Now, at the time I had in progress several Harry Potter stories. There was _Ritually Yours_, which was working it's way through first year. There was _Honor to Serve_ which was handling the summer after the fourth year, and there was _Take no Umbridge_ which was handling the fifth year. In order to keep the ideas apart, I decided that I would not work in any year I already had a story in._

_This left second, third, sixth, and seventh year. I started looking around for ideas. It may not surprise you, given _Honor a Hufflepuff_, that I was looking for things that should have been done, but didn't. In this case, treatment of a certain young girl who was possessed by a dark lord. I, of course, can't make it easy, and I was unwilling to do a Harry Potter story without Harry Potter. Fortunately a solution presented itself to that issue, and along with the addition of Snape, I had a plot to work with._

_Many of those who reviewed the first draft of this work found the change of Snape to be too much, which resulted in a second and third full draft of the first three chapters. It made the work a lot better, in my opinion, so I would like to thank_ _many members of Caer Azkaban for their responses. As this is getting long, I won't be naming them here._

_I'm going to be posting parts of this story as I finish editing them, but each part will be posted no sooner than a week after the last story chapter I post, of any story. So if the muse gives me some _Take no Umbridge II_ next week, for instance, you won't get the first full Chapter until December._

* * *

**Prologue**

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, nibbling at a lemon tart. The 1992 - 1993 school year was over, and he had a lot of leftover paperwork to complete, even though the Hogwarts Express had departed an hour before. As he nibbled his tart, he decided that he could put the staff evaluations aside for the day. He was going to have to do something about Severus and the just completed second year Gryffindors, though.

Dumbledore had not enjoyed this year. With the Chamber of Secrets having been opened, the Board of Governors temporarily sacking him, and his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor not only turning out to be a fraud, but a rake and a memory rapist. If it his use of Ronald Weasley's broken wand hadn't backfired on him, making him unable to contribute to his own defense, Dumbledore would have been convening the Wizengamot to sentence him to the veil through which no one returns.

He shuffled the papers on his desk, looking longingly at the Potion's journal article on an innovative suppression transformation potion that he kept getting interrupted when reading. Work before pleasure, though. Dumbledore picked up the report from the Hospital Wing regarding the lingering issues for students, with special attention on those that had been in the chamber.

Ronald Weasley looked to have managed the least damage, though he'd apparently caught a little of the nimbus of the spell that backfired on Lockhart. He'd been mostly unharmed, and unfortunately had not been in a position to help Harry in the final confrontation. Then again, sometimes the hero had to go it alone. Dumbledore was well aware of that.

Harry Potter had been cast by fate and prophecy to be the hero of his generation. As usual, his medical report was voluminous for the year. A good portion of it could be blamed on the now revealed nitwit that Dumbledore had been forced to hire do to lack of other applicants. This year, Dumbledore intended to go recuiting early and often to find a decent professor for that class. Of course, his final injuries of the year, unless you count the cracked rib, could be blamed on Tom Riddle.

That had been healed, aside from the emotional trauma, Dumbledore noted. This was the first time he'd seen the last section. It seemed that Madam Pomfrey had decided to detail the long term issues that she'd seen with Harry. As Dumbledore read it, for the first time in one place, he grew more and more upset with both the Dursleys for their treatment of Harry and himself for no checking up on him.

A history of multiple broken bones, whip marks, signs of malnutrition and constant exhaustion on his growth ... the litany went on and on. Dumbledore forced himself to read the full reconstructed timeline of injuries. By the time he finished the detailed descriptions of the likely cause and original appearance of the injuries, he found himself bending over his waste basket to rid himself of his breakfast and third of his tart.

And he'd just sent the boy home to that family again.

He had to do something to get him out of that.

Of course that wasn't the only urgent recommendation that Madam Pomfrey had to make. Ginerva Weasley was right below, with mental trauma that Pomfrey didn't believe she was capable to treat. She recommended a full evaluation and treatment by a mind healer or a muggle psychologist, the latter of which Pomfrey thought might actually do a better job. A recommendation was included, with a note that "Mr. Potter might benefit from the same."

Dumbledore took up a fresh bite his tart, trying to clear the taste of bile from his tastebuds. The Weasley's couldn't afford such treatment, and certainly wouldn't consider the muggle option, which was according to Pomfrey both better and cheaper. If, however, he were to approach Molly Weasley with it as a way to help Harry, and say that the cost would be waived due to Ginerva's generous donation ...

Fawkes began to sing his approval of Dumbledore's plan as it formed. Of course there were a few holes in the plan. Given that the psychologist that Pomfrey had recommended lived on the street that Severus did, housing during treatment seemed easy enough, though Harry would need to be disguised somehow. Dumbledore's eyes caught that journal article again. Harry would probably be a touch upset with him for the method, but it would work.


	2. Untreated Condition

_**Author's Note:**__ This chapter got rewritten at least five times in various parts. Only Ginny's scene survived relatively the same as the original draft. It is also my attempt to set up a slightly different Snape using only the parts that have been revealed as occurring before this point in the time line. That means that flash back scenes that occur before the summer after the second year of Harry's time at Hogwarts are considered for the purpose of characterizing Snape for this story but not any other events occurring in books three and up. Keep this in mind when reading the Snape scene that follows._

_Expect the next chapter no earlier than December fifth. If I post another story in between then and now, expect this story's next chapter to be delayed. I have to fix the opening scene of that chapter anyway._

* * *

**Chapter One**

The school year was over, and after a bit of clean up of his quarters, Professor Severus Snape intended on heading home to Spinner's End for the Summer. Tonight, though, he intended on spending a quiet evening working through the frustrations that the year had brought. There were times when he wished he was the type to get roaring mad and destructive when he was drunk. Unfortunately he was a quiet and introspective drunk. Or perhaps fortunate, as he'd seen what an angry drunk looked like with his father.

This would be the second year in a row where Severus intended to spent the night after the departure of the students getting drunk. In fact, it was only the third such time after school's end he'd gotten drunk at Hogwarts, and fourth time he'd done so as a Hogwarts Professor.

The first time had been his second year teaching at Hogwarts, and first year as Head of Slytherin. He had never had such dunderheads as the fifth year that year. It had taken three years for the elves to repair the results of Edwin Handel's claimed to be unintended fireworks. It had not only ruined Potions Lab Five, but it had resulted in the collapse of the Ancient Runes classroom into the said lab less than an hour later. Two house elves had died. How he made it to the end of the year without strangling Handel and his inconsiderate, bungling, Gryffindor classmates, he was sure he'd never know.

Edwin Handel was why Severus would never let anyone less than those with an Outstanding OWL in his NEWT class. Given that boy's talent, Severus figured that he would have blown up Hogwarts within a week of starting in NEWT Potions. The trail of potions disasters that the boy had left behind him was truly epic, and Severus was not surprised that two years after leaving Hogwarts, Handel had blown himself up.

The next time Severus had gotten drunk at Hogwarts, had been two days before Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts, after Dumbledore had informed him of the plan to defeat the shade of the Dark Lord. He had actually been looking forward to Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts. He'd only seen him three times, twice when he was still a baby, and once at a distance when Hagrid had brought him shopping.

He'd intended on introducing himself, much like Quirrell had, but he'd been distracted by his god son, Draco, and he'd disappeared by the time he'd looked up again. True, Harry did look a lot like his father, but there was no denying his mother's eyes. There were many times when Severus had to cover his staring at those eyes with a ridiculous point reduction, which he'd quietly reverse later. It was the eyes that always got to him, with Lily and her son.

With Harry it triggered memories, memories that Severus could ill afford, not with the tasks that Dumbledore had given him. He could not be seen as favoring Harry Potter. He had to keep up the relationships with the Death Eaters who he had rightly betrayed. Everything had to show that he hated Potter. If it was not for his vow not to get drunk more than a couple times a year, and always were he would not encounter anyone else while drunk, Severus would have been known as the Drunken Professor by the end of Potter's first year.

The boy had a knack for being in the wrong place when trouble happened. Or perhaps it was the right place.

Severus wished he'd paid more attention to Potter during the first year. He had been late to start the counter curse on the broom, and if he ever found out who set fire to his robes ... well he was a bit undecided about that, because the commotion did end the curse on Potter's broom. At times he wanted them cleaning out caldrons without gloves. Other times, times which he wouldn't publically admit to his house, he considered taking the unusual step of thanking the student. He'd tried to narrow it down once, and pretty much eliminated everyone.

He knew he wasn't trusted by the students in Gryffindor, and there was a long litany of reasons why. He'd never regretted it until he saw Harry Potter laying in the hospital wing after his confrontation with Voldemort his first year. Some how in the late night light of the wing, with the moon casting it's light through the window, he saw not James Potter, the image which he'd been re-enforcing in his mind since his sorting, but Lily.

He'd ended up sharing a good scotch with McGonagall, even after ten years as a colleague, he still couldn't call her by her first name, after the students had left. Then there had been the tot of rum with Flitwick, which lead to another glass of her green house blend with Pomona. He'd ended up in his quarters drinking a case of fire whiskey that he'd confiscated from one of his Seventh Years on the last Hogsmeade weekend.

As a potion master, he hadn't had to worry about the hangover the next morning.

Severus had just tossed his second bottle into the fire, when the Headmaster knocked on the door.

"Really, Severus, this drinking the night after term can not be good for you," Dumbledore said as he strode through the door.

"You forced me to play this role," Severus said. "You will at least allow me to drown my sorrows, to regret the role I can not play in Lily's son's life, the night I can drop that role for the year."

Dumbledore nodded, with that annoying twinkle in his eyes. Severus knew what that meant. There was a new plot afoot, and somehow, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had a role that he needed Serervus to play. With twenty-two ounces of fire whiskey in him, Severus could not bring himself to care. At least until Dumbledore placed Harry Potter's medical record in front of him.

"Madam Pomfrey says that both Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley need treatment from a mind healer."

Severus took up the record and began to read it. His third fire whiskey disappeared by the time he was done.

"I have a way to fix this, Severus, but I need your help."

* * *

Ginny Weasley was afraid to fall asleep. Every time she did, she had a nightmare about the chamber. She would see Harry Potter die. Her body would be frozen, with her eyes open, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to even cry tears for what was happening before her.

Since Harry had rescued her, her dreams had been filled with images of Harry failing to rescue her. She'd dreamed him being swallowed by the basilisk. She'd dreamed that he'd died in the collapse of the cavern. She'd dreamed that Lockhart's spell had killed him. She'd dreamed that he'd been crushed by the basilisk. She'd dreamed that he was drowned in the chamber. Every time she'd hear Tom Riddle's evil laugh, announcing that the Boy-Who-Lived was dead, and so was she.

So, she was spending this, the first night home from her first year at Hogwarts counting flowers on her wall. The flowers swaying in the breeze usually helped her fall asleep, but not tonight. Tonight she didn't want to, and her fear kept her staring at the flowers, and it looked like she was going to make it to dawn.

On the floor was a deck of muggle cards. She'd tried playing solitaire until she discovered that she was playing with a deck of fifty-one, being short an Ace of Diamonds. There was the stuffed kangaroo watching her from the light fixture. Hugging Captain hadn't helped, and she'd thrown him up there.

She didn't want her parents to know, but she was sure they'd find out her condition. They'd find out and she'd have to admit just how stupid she had been. If it wasn't for Harry Potter, she'd be dead.

She punched her pillow. You would think that if you were rescued by a hero, you would at least get to dream about riding into the sunset with him on a white steed. Maybe some people did, but not Ginny Weasley. No, Ginny got to watch Harry Potter die over and over again, knowing that it was her bloody fault.

* * *

"Get up!" his Aunt Petunia's voice protruded on Harry Potter's sleep. He reached over and snared his glasses. It was still barely light in the room. Since the Dursley's didn't want anyone to see his freakishness, the blind over the window actually did a good job in keeping the light out, so it wasn't easy to judge the time, until he settled his glasses on his nose. It matched every other blind on the second floor.

Harry groaned as he managed to pick out the time on his alarm clock. He'd fixed it last year, but it seemed that he hadn't remembered to see the alarm last night. It was half past five in the morning. Every other boy in his dorm had told him of the bliss of sleeping in during the summer. For Harry, getting up in time for breakfast at Hogwarts was sleeping in.

"Get up!" Aunt Petunia said once again.

"Coming, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, rolling out of bed. It was stifling in the room with the blinds drawn over the closed window. There was no circulation in the room at all. He slid one of Dudley's really old and thin T-shirts over his head, and pulled up the ratty jeans. An old pair of sneakers, and he was out the door.

"About time," Petunia remarked, as Harry opened the door. "Vernon just started his shower, and breakfast must be ready so he can get to work on time. After he leaves, you'll be expected to weed the flower beds, trim the hedge, and mow the front and back garden."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry said. Those tasks would take all day, if he preformed them like they should be, and he dared not to. He had a feeling that he was going to be completely spent at the end of the day.

"And when Vernon gets home from work, you're to wash the BMW," Petunia continued. He could hear the words of the weather forecaster behind her. It was going to be a very hot day, apparently.

Scratch that, by the time his day ended, Harry figured that he wouldn't just be spent, he'd be burnt out, only a cinder of what he was now.


	3. Hidden Symptoms

_**Author's Note: **__Who knew that a one scene addition/rewrite would cause me such trouble. Thanks to all who have reviewed or helped me with this story._

_This story has been modified as of 3:30 PM ET 12/10/14 from it's original posting to fix some issues with Snape. The previous draft incorrectly implied that Snape might harbor certain perversions that he does not in this story. In addition, some alterations of the description of Harry's transformation has also been done. _

* * *

**Chapter Two**

Molly Weasley watched her daughter staggered into the kitchen, her eyes half closed. She had looked in on her daughter at dawn and seen the poor girl laying in her bed, her eyes wide open, unable to sleep. A quick sleeping charm had closed her eyes, but even with that, she was sure that Ginny had not slept much at all. She had seen Ginny tossing and turning an hour later, moaning about Harry not being able to rescue her.

"Finally up, Ginny?" Molly said, trying to sound as normal as possible. "I know I let everyone sleep in the first day back from Hogwarts, but quarter till eleven is a little bit excessive."

"I didn't close my eyes until dawn," Ginny mumbled, barely able to stumble into a seat. Molly put a plate front of her. "Sill had nightmares." She picked up her fork and took a bite.

Molly doubted that her daughter was tasting it her food at all. She seemed to be going through the motions. "The same nightmares that you've had since Harry rescued you?" her mother asked. "The ones that required Poppy to dose you with dreamless sleep potion, twice."

"Worse," Ginny said, her words coming out in a flood. "I see him die, over and over when he comes to save me. And I know he would have really died to save me. He got bit by a basilisk! If it wasn't for the Headmaster's phoenix, he'd be dead. And it would have been all my fault! My fault my classmates were petrified. Colin was my bestest friend in Gryffindor and I can't even look at him any more, I feel so guilty. And Percy is going to kill me when he realizes that I was responsible for Penelope, his girlfriend. Then Ron may be the brother who likes me the best, but I still did it to Hermione ..."

Ginny trailed off into sobs. She looked completely exhausted, as tears continued to run down her cheeks. The words of Madam Pomfrey came back to her as her daughter cried, 'No one gets over the trauma of possession without some help.'

She wanted her daughter to be with her family, to recover in her arms. She wanted Ginny to be back to normal, to be her little firecracker. Her little girl looked worse than she had when she'd visited at Hogwarts. Ginny had begged to stay at Hogwarts through the end of term, and she'd looked so much better when she got off the train. Now though, Molly could tell that being home wasn't helping Ginny. Her daughter needed help, and after less than a single day, it was clear to Molly that being home wasn't helping her do that.

Molly put her arms around her daughter from behind, feeling her body tremble as the sobs continued. She had to say something. She had to give her daughter hope. "Professor Dumbledore contacted me this morning."

Those words immediately affected her daughter, as she sniffed and brought her sobbing under control.

"He's found someone to help you," Molly continued. "He believes that she will be able to help you recover and sleep, but there is one draw back that you need to consider."

"What?" Ginny asked, her eyes catching Molly's, pleading with her silently.

"You'll have to spend the summer living in disguise in the neighborhood at Professor Snape's house," Molly told her daughter. "You won't be alone though, as Harry will be joining you."

Molly watched as her daughter's expression turned from exhaustion to determination the moment the word Harry left her mouth. She was well aware of Professor Snape's reputation. She was also quite aware of just how different the man was when you got to a private conference with him. None of her children liked Professor Snape. Professor Snape, on the other hand actually thought that a few of her children had some talent, if they'd just use it in class. His bemoaning about Fred and George had been particularly interesting when she'd been up at Hogwarts last. Still, she knew that her daughter found the Potions Professor to rank somewhere between sitting next to her Great Aunt Muriel and You-Know-Who.

"Mum," Ginny said, her gaze latching to her mothers. "I'm not letting Harry do this alone, and I need it."

Molly's eyes met Ginny's and she enfolded her in a warm hug. There was no substitute for the comfort of a mother's hug, and for a long time let her daughter basked in it's warmth. Eventually, though, Ginny pulled away and looked up at her mum with pleading eyes.

"Okay, we'll get you packed back up after you finish eating," her mother ordered. Ginny picked up her fork and started to eat again. "We'll take my stag, since your father is still looking for a new car."

Ginny dropped her fork. "No one rides in the stag," her daughter whispered.

Molly smiled. The stag had been a gift to her mother from Gideon and Fabian the Christmas after Charlie was born. It had been tuned to perfection, and was kept under a stasis spell in a shed just past the pond with a cobblestone drive of its own reaching out to a much bigger road than the one into town. "None of your brothers have," she acknowledged. "Your father and I do manage to take a little spin every once in awhile. Though it has been a while. Your father is convinced that the stag is responsible for you. "

Molly smiled as her daughter suddenly shuddered. She was sure that Arthur was right about that. It was a tradition for them to take a spin on November Second, and they had spent a rather nice interlude after the picnic. With everyone away again this autumn, Molly was sure that another picnic could be arranged, right after everyone left King's Cross.

An hour later, Molly pulled out of the shed with her daughter seated beside her in her Triumph Stag. Ginny seemed to be a bit uncomfortable in the slacks and top that Molly had put out for her. The top in particular seemed just a bit too tight. Molly made a note to see about getting her daughter a new brassiere.

"Turn the radio on, dear," Molly said, hoping that her daughter might loosen up with a little music. "Ginny, you're not going to hurt my car. Anything you do, I can fix. I put the new radio in myself when they moved Radio Three to FM radio."

Ginny gingerly turned on the radio.

"Now let's hear a bit of Igor Stranvisky's The Firebird, as played by the Vienna Philharmonic conducted by Carlos Klieber," the voice came from the radio.

"I know it's traditional to put on some sort of popular music on a journey like this, but it's rare that I have the opportunity to listen to Composer of the Week," Molly said. "Not since George ruined my charm on the wireless last summer."

"You mean we were listening to muggle broadcasts last year?" Ginny said, looking at her mother with an incredulous expression. It was nice to catch such an expression on her daughter after the fear and exhaustion.

"Not just last year, dear," Molly said, as the car accelerated onto a larger motorway than what they'd been driving on. A road sign proclaimed 'M5.' "Since you were conceived. You didn't really think that I didn't share your father's love for at least some things muggle. Now, I know you don't want to talk about all the bad events at school, but perhaps you can tell me about the good parts?"

Ginny remained silent for a moment, thinking, in Molly's judgement."Well, I guess I can tell about Valentine's Day. It wasn't too horrible, just embarrassing..."

* * *

Harry limped back into Number Four Privit Drive. His first day back from Hogwarts was murder. There was no breakfast. No, he had to start with mowing the lawn, then clipping the hedge, followed by prying up the slate path to the back garden and putting it back down on the opposite side. He wasn't even allowed to use the wheel barrow.

There had been no lunch. It wasn't for the likes of him, apparently. Harry knew this was because of his uncle's fall into the bush ... a bush he had to replace after when he should have had lunch ... from Harry's once barred window. He'd had to paint the gutter, and wash the BMW, twice. Harry cursed the fact that the BMW was black, showing every speck of dirt.

He was supposed to cook dinner. That meant he would at least get to take a shower. It wouldn't be hot though. A hot shower was too good for the likes of him.

"Shower, boy," Uncle Vernon ordered. "Use plenty of soap and water. I don't want to smell you while I eat."

Harry climbed the stairs. He wasn't used to all this work after spending most of the year at Hogwarts. He'd get used to it though. He had before. An old towel grabbed from his room, he wasn't good enough to use one of the new ones, and discarded the clothes he'd gotten from Dudley and climbed into the shower.

Vernon had left the hot water on. That usually meant that he'd turn it off in the middle, but for now, Harry enjoyed the feeling of the water on his sore muscles as he scrubbed the sweet of a hard day's work off his body. Harry loved hot water showers. It wasn't something he'd got often until he had left for Hogwarts. At Hogwarts he was known for steaming up the bath with his showers.

* * *

Severus Snape approached the Dursley's with resignation. Molly Weasley had already delivered Ginny Weasley, and that had ended Snape's procrastination. So he'd put on his best muggle dress, a deep brown sport coat, pale yellow shirt, and brown trousers, and picked up his black potions case. He'd ditched the tie. The outfit was the one he wore when he wanted no one to associate him with his Hogwarts Professorial persona. He'd owned it since his last year at Hogwarts. Lily had helped him buy it.

As he reached the house, he noted that the car was freshly washed, and the grass cut. The house gave the impression of a well maintained middle class abode. Something, though, was giving Severus the feeling that there was something wrong. It was a feeling that he'd actually received and pushed away several times when in the presence of Potter.

He stepped up and rang the door bell. It didn't take long for the door to open. It was Petunia. The last time he'd seen Lilly's sister, she'd been a tall teen, taller than Severus. Now he met her green eyes, framed by the same washed out blond hair that he remembered from his youth. He'd last seen her the summer after his fifth year, when he'd tried to get Lily to forgive him.

Petunia had poured salt on the wound of the estrangement between him and Lily. It was Petunia who had slammed the door in his face. To make matters worse, it was Petunia who had discovered Snape's mother, dead, just after he'd returned to Hogwarts for his last year. It was hard to look at her, knowing what she thought of him, and how she'd been right about him being destined to kill Lily.

He didn't let it show though. "Good Afternoon, Petunia, I believe it's Dursley now?" Severus said, his foot moving to keep Petunia from slamming the door on his face again. "I'm one of Potter's professor's now, and we need to talk."

Petunia stepped back allowing Severus to enter. She closed the door behind him, and then introduced him to the rotund man standing at the entrance to the parlor. "Vernon, this is Professor Severus Snape, a childhood friend of Lily's and now at Harry's school. Professor Snape, my husband Vernon Dursley."

Vernon looked ready to scream at Severus. He'd been warned that Potter's uncle was abrasive to witches and wizards when he'd stopped by Widow Fig on his way in. "Mister Dursley, I've come on behalf of the Headmaster to take Mister Potter for the summer, early, as well as to notify you that he and a couple members of the staff will be by later this month so that the wards on this house may be strengthened. Potter will, of course, return next year."

* * *

Somehow he managed to finish the shower before Vernon shut off the hot water. He dried off, and placing the towel around his waist headed back to his room. He didn't bother combing his hair. That never worked, or helped. He put on a more presentable outfit.

"Boy! Come down here now." Uncle Vernon shouted up the stairs before Harry could get his socks and trainers on.

"Coming, Uncle Vernon!" Harry replied. He judged that there was no way that he'd be able to arrive on time if he put his shoes on, and Vernon wouldn't care about that anyway. So he left his room and headed downstairs.

* * *

Severus could tell the glee that Vernon had at the idea that Potter was leaving. The shouting match that Severus had foreseen no longer threatened. Clearly the man detested Potter, and that shifted Severus's opinion to a more favorable one.

Potter came down the stairs in his usual, worn, ill fitting clothes. He hadn't put on his shoes, but given the potion that Dumbledore had given Severus, it was likely that none of what Potter was wearing was going to fit him.

"Boy, you'll be spending the summer with Professor Snape."

The expression on Potter's face as his uncle said that was one that Severus was sure that he'd be looking back with fondness every day. He took great pride in the fact that he was the most feared Professor at Hogwarts. "Indeed," he said, as Potter trembled. "However, we shall have to disguise you before we head to my home. Collect your trunk, and come back down."

As Potter headed back up the stairs, Severus was directed to the parlor. He could see the Dursley boy through the door to the kitchen, consuming some sort of sugary cereal and watching the telly. He stepped into the parlor. The drapes were already closed, Severus noted. One less thing to do. "As Potter's guardians, it would be a good time to discuss my observations on his progress at Hogwarts. Now!"

The Dursleys followed Severus into the room, and took seats on the sofa. Snape remained standing in front of the covered window. His firm words had just as much effect as they did when one of his students was awaiting detention under his supervision. Few disobeyed him then.

"I have been your nephew's Potions Professor for the past two years," Severus said. "I find him with a total lack of respect for my authority. He is often quick with the comeback. That being said, he is usually well prepared for class. His ingredient preparation is his strength in potions. Potter does seem to take good notes, but his essays seem to be gauged to only cover the minimum necessary. In class, his potions had a disturbing tendency to end explosively at the worst possible time.

"I shall, of course, be remedying these issues while he is under my charge this summer," Severus said as Potter returned to the room, dragging his trunk. "We will be leaving from here. The Headmaster has provided Potter with a potion that will disguise his identity. Potter, strip."

Potter looked like he was going to object to stripping, but Severus kept his glare on him. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus noticed that Vernon had a particular expression of glee in his face, as if he was enjoying seeing Potter strip. It was a red flag to the Head of Slytherin.

Potter's head dropped with resignation. He took off his shoes and socks first, turning around before dropping his trousers. Potter bent down to pick up his trousers to fold them up, and Severus noticed the first scar, right across his bottom. Potter had been whipped with a belt so long and hard that it had bled and scared. As Potter pulled his shirt over his head, Severus noticed the scars cris-crossing his back.

He was familiar with all of the types, there were burn scars, and whipping scars. Scars caused by belts and scars caused by rods, he identified them all on the boy-who-lived. Potter folded up his shirt, still facing away.

Severus turned away from Potter and looked right in the eyes of Vernon Dursley. He was no fan of Potter, but now that he'd seen the scars, he couldn't deny the signs he had seen and dismissed at Hogwarts anymore. He didn't even need to say the word to see in Dursley's mind that he was not only responsible, but had taken pleasure in it. Wandlessly and silently he froze Dursley in place. Severus looked in Petunia's eyes, and found fear. Fear of him, of course, but also fear of Vernon. He left her alone.

He looked back at Potter, who had turned back around. Potter was covering himself, trying to give himself a little dignity. Severus almost wished that it hadn't been standard procedure with transformation potions like the one he was about to hand Potter for the subject to strip. With a genetic suppression potion it was important that a Potion Master observe the transformation carefully for any abnormalities. Catching his gaze, Severus suddenly realized that he was letting Potter stand vulnerable to the gaze of his tormenters. He quickly transfigured the end table to a screen that obscured the view of Potter from those seated on the sofa, chastizing himself for not realizing that before.

Severus reached into his bag and pulled out the potion, as he turned back towards the Dursley's. "Mr. Dursley, I have been head of Slytherin House since the Autumn of 1982," Severus said, his eyes locked on Potter's uncle. "I have seen many students who have been treated like your nephew by their family. I have not been kind to those responsible for such treatment of my Slytherins. I was one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, and you would have been dead before Christmas if I had been your nephew's Head of House."

He then altered his gaze. "Petunia, I suggest that you make sure that the life insurance is paid up." Severus then looked back at Potter. The boy's mouth was open with surprise. "Potter, drink this."

Potter uncorked the vial and swallowed the deep purple liquid. It took maybe three gulps to consume the whole potion, and then Potter began to change.

The first change that Severus noticed was that Potter was getting just a bit taller. His hair started to get longer. Then Potter's stance shifted, and Severus's gaze dropped. It seemed that Potter's privileges were shrinking. Potter trembled, and Severus caught his gaze again. The roots of his hair were turning red, and Potter was growing breasts. A brief glance downward confirmed that Potter would not be cutting a swath through the ladies of Cokeworth this Summer, as instead he'd be worried about someone doing it to him. Potter's body shook, as the transformation completed. Severus circled around Potter once, looking for any abnormalities in the transformation, his wand silently casting to assure he didn't miss anything.

Only once he was done did it fully hit the Potion's Master what was standing before him and his family. No longer was there the embarrassed naked dark haired boy, the spitting image of his father. Now it was a trembling naked flame haired girl, the spitting image of her mother. Severus suppressed a groan. Potter was spending the summer with him, and instead of the hated visage of his father, he was going to be dealing with the daughter who was the spitting image of the only woman he had ever loved.

The image of a Lily appeared to have a greater effect on Petunia. She had dropped off the couch to her knees. "Lily. I'm sorry Lily. I couldn't do it, Lily. I'm sorry Lily. I should have tried harder. I should have treated him well, Lily."

Tears were running down Petunia's face. At a glance, Severus knew that she thought she was seeing her dead sister, coming back to life. Potter, on the other hand looked in shock. "Petunia!" Snape said sharply, as he grabbed Potter's t-shirt from where the student had placed it on the top of his trunk. He shook it out and transfigured it into a much longer simple dress. "Potter, put this on."

Potter caught the tossed dress, as Severus bent down to help Petunia up. "Severus, why has Lily come back?" the woman asked.

"That's not Lily," Severus said, firmly. "Though you might want to think about what Lily would think about how you treated her son. "

Petunia sat down, and nodded. Only after she had sat down, did Severus notice that Dudley had entered the parlor. "Harry?" The voice was tentative, full of disbelief at what he was seeing. "What happened to you?"

"I don't know," Potter replied, nearly knocking his glasses off as he pushed his head through the top of the dress. "I think the potion turned me into a girl."

"The potion I gave you suppresses a portion of your genetic code," Snape said, as the dress he'd created for Potter settled down to about a foot above Potter's knees. "It would appear that the Headmaster keyed it to suppress your father's contribution. It is reversible, and will require booster doses." Then he turned to the youngest Dursley. "It can be used on others."

Suddenly, Dudley's hands went to cover between his legs.

"Potter, take hold of your trunk," Severus ordered, moving to stand next to him. "Petunia, I will be back to talk."


	4. Ignoring Doctor's Advice

_**Author's Note**__: It looks like the muse is alternating between this and _Prometheus Unbound_. I would like to thank those who helped me with the characterization of Snape during the last few chapters. It's been something that's hard to handle. I'm seeing a trend to these chapters getting longer as I rewrite them. I think that's generally a good thing.  
_

_There was a minor update to this chapter's second scene on 2/4/15/_

**Chapter Three**

Molly Weasley was seated in the front parlor, listening to one of Snape's records, a performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons by the London Symphony, when Snape appeared. The Slytherin Head of House had his arm around a girl. The girl's hand was on her trunk, which immediately tumbled over. Only the fact that Molly knew who Snape was retrieving allowed her to identify her.

Molly Weasley had seen many a poor clothes transfiguration attempt, especially of dresses, back when she was attending Hogwarts. It was obvious from what the girl was wearing that Professor Snape was not a transfiguration professor. The dress was thin, way too thin. Even in this warm weather it was obviously not enough coverage. Her red hair was not Weasley red. That was a bit deeper, more towards scarlet than the flaming red that she had last seen on Lily Potter but now graced the form of Harry Potter.

"Mrs. Weasley," Professor Snape greeted. "I take it that dinner is merely simmering until we are ready to eat?"

"Ginny's finishing the bread now," Molly replied, as her focus remained on Harry. "Welcome to Spinner's End, Harry. Sorry that you won't be able to spend time at the Burrow this summer, but Ginny will be here with you, and I imagine that I'll stop by a few times."

"Indeed," Snape said. "Though it will be limited. Mr. Potter, Mrs. Weasley will be playing the role of Placement Advisor this Summer. Your cover here is that you and Ginny are my cousins, who recently lost their mother in a house fire. I shall be going over your cover identities during dinner."

Molly noticed how slumped Harry's posture was. To the mother, it was a sign that Harry needed one thing to at least get through to dinner. "Come, I think you need a hug," she said to Harry, her arms pulling Harry close. Harry was a bit taller than her Ginny was, and the transformation had given her a much more developed bust line than her daughter. She held Harry close, letting him draw a bit of comfort from the protection of her arms.

When Harry had first come to the Burrow the previous summer, it had been clear that the boy was not sure about being hugged, but by the time he'd left for Hogwarts, Molly had made great strides in his acceptance of being hugged. In fact, the boy had practically lapped up the affection that she lavished on him. It had been clear to her that at the very least the boy had been starved of affection, if not starved in general, and Molly had made a point of giving Harry as much love as she could. She knew Harry appreciated it. None of her boys wrote thank you letters like he did for Christmas gifts and the incidentals that she managed to scratch together to send to Hogwarts.

She felt Harry beginning to pull away and she let him. Looking at Harry's attire again, it was clear to her that it would not do. "Severus, we have to do something immediately about Harry's attire," she said.

"Indeed," Professor Snape replied. "The Headmaster has provided a stipend for clothing. I intend to go shopping tomorrow with the girls."

"Yes, but we need to have a goodbye out front before I return to the Burrow, and that dress is not suitable," Molly said.

"Neither is anything else in Potter's trunk," Professor Snape stated.

"I can, at the very least, transfigure something better to last until then," Molly said firmly.

* * *

It was almost five minutes later that Molly found herself being hugged by her daughter, tears running down both their faces, on the steps of Number Ten Spinner's End. After her daughter pulled away, she pulled Harry into a similar hug. It was quite an emotional parting in front of the residents of Spinner's End.

It looked like the whole street had managed to show up to see it too. A skateboarder had actually caused poor Harry to have to jump back before Molly could hug him, at first. There were three people walking their dogs, and a young boy chasing a cat. That was before Molly started counting the number of people sitting out on their steps in the afternoon sun on the other side of the street.

"Now, remember, girls," Molly admonished after she finished her hugs. "I want you to contact me if you have any problems. We take placement very seriously. I know that Mr. Snape is your father's nephew, but that doesn't mean that we will take any less care to make sure the transition of custody is any less suitable than otherwise."

"Yes Mrs. Prewett," Ginny replied with a bit of a grin. Harry remained silent, his head looking down.

"And that goes for you too, Harry," Molly said, raising his chin so she could look in the eyes of the boy turned girl.

"Yes Mrs. Prewett," Harry echoed.

With tears in her eyes, Molly pulled away from her daughter, and the boy turned girl who she wished was. She opened the door, dodging that skateboarder again, before she sat down in her Stag. As the tears slid down her face, she turned the key, revived the engine, and pulled out of Spinner's End.

* * *

Severus Snape gently turned Ginny Weasley's gaze away from where her mother's car had disappeared around the corner. He'd been quite surprised to see her pull up in what looked like a mint condition '72 Triumph Stag. It was not something he expected to see from the cash strapped family. Judging from the way she pulled away from the curb, Molly Weasley felt the need for speed.

As they re-entered Number Seven, took the time to examine the two girls who would be his charges for the summer. Ginny Weasley had taken a potion that had matched up her hair and eyes with Harry's. Severus cursed the Headmaster for what he was sure was not going to be the last time. As a Hogwarts Head of House, he was well aware what two girls could get up to. With one especially looking like Lily, his childhood friend from just a few blocks over, he knew all the things that had attracted her in the very town. He was sure that Lily would come back to kill him if he allowed her son to get into some of the things that she did.

For a moment, he let them proceed him into the house. Ginny had come wearing a rather nice, if a bit formal deep blue blouse with matching slacks. It was obviously her muggle bests. Judging from his review of her trunk, she would need a few clothes to round out her playing the orphaned girl spending the summer with her new guardian. His other charge would need much more.

Harry, Severus was making a point to think of him by that name, not his hated last name, needed everything. Being a newly transformed girl, that was perhaps a given. Since his trunk had spilled on arrival, Severus knew that would have been true regardless of his transformation's effects. It was obvious that the only items that had fit Harry at the end of the school year were his school robes, and even they were a bit short after a year's growth.

Molly Weasley, or as she was going by for the Summer during her occasional visits, Mrs. Prewett, had transfigured one of Harry's robes into a nice set of clothes, similar to Ginny's outfit, though with a deep green top, a particular shade that his mother preferred, matching their eyes, and black slacks. A second set had been transfigured for use in their shopping the next morning.

He was not looking forward to taking them down to the shops off High Street. In his experience, going with girls shopping was a chore that he could do without. Unfortunately, it was his duty. And by bringing Harry into his home, he was now committed to the duty of caring for the now daughter of Lily Evans, with a side of Weasley.

The scent of fresh baked bread waffled from the kitchen at the rear of the house. Checking his watch, a gift from Minerva the previous Christmas, he saw that there was at least a good five minutes of simmering left on the beef stew which the Weasley ladies had started on his stove. Everything else was waiting that last bit. Plenty of time, he judged to get some of the of the necessary rules set.

Suddenly Severus realized that Molly had made a mistake, a mistake that invalidated much of the prepared paperwork that the Headmaster had provided. "Potter," Severus said, stopping the boy turned girl's progress down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" Harry said in a surprisingly polite tone. Severus figured that he would have been angry, answering abrasively. It was as if he was answering like one trained in the service.

"Mrs. Weasley, by calling you Harry outside. has upset the documentation that had been set up for you this summer," Snape began. It was something that Albus really should have considered when he gave an amateur like Molly Weasley an acting role. "I have documentation making you Hazel Jasmine Prince, just like Miss Weasley is now Ginger Ariana Prince. We now need to correct your documents with a name that can be shortened to Harry, but is not easily seen as such that I can use to refer to you in full when visitors stop by. I'd like you to come up with one before bedtime tonight. Use the Comprehendum of Acceptable Names by Walburga Black. The Prince family used it almost exclusively, even those that were exiled to the muggle world. It's in the parlor."

"Yes sir," Harry said, before continuing on into the kitchen.

* * *

The scent of fresh baked bread filled the room. Ginny Weasley was proud of her success in baking. She was sure that Professor Snape would not expect this much for dinner. Her mother had told the Professor that Ginny would be able to "able to heat up a little dinner" to be ready when he and Potter arrived. Then her mother had sat back in the corner and watched.

Ginny had quickly investigated the kitchen including the gas range and oven. Fortunately like her father Ginny had a bit of interest in Muggle things. Unlike her father, Ginny had sought out more reliable sources. It also helped that there was a rather old and dusty cook book that she discovered in the cupboards flanking the oven. There been some notations in a spidery feminine hand about the particularities of the oven and stove. It had accidentally opened up to a recipe for Italian bread with the notation "Severus's Favorite."

There had been just enough ingredients for it. She'd also been able to make a vegetable beef stew that looked quite well. The bread was on the table covered with a towel in a basket. Soup bowls were set out, and she found a ladle to serve stew.

Harry's arrival and her mother's departure had been almost perfectly timed. The stew was simmering, almost ready to serve, and the Italian twisted bread sticks had just been pulled out of the oven. Ginny had covered the bread with a couple dish towels, and placed the basket on the table, just as the crack of Professor Snape's arrival echoed through the house.

Ginny hoped that the meal she'd made to impress Harry Potter would be good. With her mother's departure, she quickly checked to make sure everything was ready. Glasses were on the table, along with soup bowls and plates for the bread.

Harry Potter's arrival was more unexpected than not. Ginny Weasley had expected a boy older than her, a little bit taller than her, dark hair, brilliant green eyes, with a thin and wiry body. That was not what was holding on to the arm of her hook nosed Professor, when she'd come to greet him. Instead there was a red haired girl who looked almost a couple years older than Ginny with a wiry build and brilliant green eyes that Ginny Weasley would recognize anywhere.

As soon as her mother had departed, Ginny had dashed back in to check the stove. The stew wasn't done yet. She stirred it a bit to judge how long. "Professor Snape, the stew should be done in a couple minutes or so," she announced as he entered just behind Harry.

"Good," Professor Snape said. "Harry, I think you need to sit down."

Ginny followed the professor's gaze, and noticed that Harry seemed to be trembling, and even slightly swaying. The boy turned girl was pale, nearly white as a sheet. He practically fell into the chair.

"Ginny, pour Harry a glass of lemonade," Professor Snape said. "It is in the blue pitcher. Do not jar the red one when you remove it, or I may have to replace my icebox."

Ginny quickly followed the Professor's instructions. She also placed the bread on the table, before checking the stew, again. It wasn't quite ready. She looked back at Harry, who had already finished half of his glass, and was now nibbling on a slice of bread that the Professor had apparently cut while her back was turned. Professor Snape had taken a seat right at Harry's side.

"Do you think you can make it through the meal, Harry, or should I take you up to bed," Professor Snape said in a tone that Ginny had never heard from the Head of Slytherin. It was soft, without the sharp biting tone that she'd grown to expect from him. The volume was barely above a whisper, and there was a surprising hint of warmth to it. Harry nodded. The Professor continued with a much more firm tone.

"Then while we wait the last few minutes for the stew to finish simmering, perhaps now would be a good time for a few ground rules for the summer. First of all, I shall be addressing you by your preferred diminutives, or at least what everyone else considers to be your diminutives, when we are not with visitors. Outside this house, you may expect me to refer to you as Ginger, Ginny, and Harry can expect what ever name you chose. I need that name by morning, Harry. You may call me Master Snape or just Professor.

"There will be no references used by either of you to the last names of Potter or Weasley. This is important for both your safeties. Given my position, it should not be unexpected when some current students from Slytherin or alumni visit. You may expect in particular, Draco Malfoy, of whom I expect you to not give a single hint that you are familiar with."

"Yes sir!" Ginny replied. It would not be easy. Ginny had her own encounters with the Malfoy heir, and upon finding out who had placed the diary in her cauldron, a deep hatred for his father. Still, she would try to be prepared for the encounter.

"I am well aware that on holidays, students rejoice in sleeping in. I am also aware that you both are currently having issues sleeping. In fact, tonight, I shall be providing for you both, as an option, a vial of Dreamless sleep. I will not be forcing you to take it, though, Given that, I will also not be forcing a morning wake up call. You will, however, have a nine post meridian bed time. I expect both of you to have prepared for bed appropriately by then.

"Inside this house, I expect you not to disturb any of my papers in my study. There is a potions lab in the basement. Do not disturb it. You may, later in the summer, be asked to assist me, and I shall correct some notable deficiencies in your brewing habits. Lunch will be served precisely at noon. Be late, and miss it. There will be a snack provided at tea time, though I shall not require you to join me in my afternoon tea, do not disturb me during it. The evening meal will be at six. Again, be late and miss it.

"You both will be assigned some minor chores, and be expected to keep your rooms clean, as well as clean up any of your own messes. There are no house elves on Spinner's End to clean up after you.

"Both of you will be under the care of a mind healer, or as she's known outside the magical world, a psychologist. I shall expect you both to behave appropriately with her, and follow any instructions she gives you.

"Finally, I will not be confining either of you, in the course of normal events to this house. However, there are limits to how much roaming you may do in Cokeworth. I do expect that you will inform me, or in my absence, leave a note on my study door, any time you leave the house to let me know what you are doing. In your wanderings around town, you shall not cross the canal, go past Church Street, or go past the park. You may, however enjoy the entire park. It was one of my favorite places to go when I was your age. Ginny, is the stew ready now?"

Ginny checked. "Yes, Professor." She took the pot of the stove, and took it to the table, placing it on a hot pad that she'd put there earlier. Her mind was full of conflict, as she processed what Professor Snape had said. It was not what she expected from him. He was firm in his rules, but there seemed to be a lot of slack and freedom that she hadn't expected. And that last bit about the park, the wistful expression on his face when he said it was entirely unexpected. She took the seat.

"Harry, are you familiar with saying grace before meals?" Professor Snape asked.

"No sir," Harry replied, looking up and meeting the Professor's gaze.

"It was one of the things that your grandmother always insisted on whenever I was lucky enough to join your mother's family for a meal," Snape said. "So, perhaps I should share her favorite blessing with you. Place you palms together, bow your head, close your eyes, and listen." Ginny followed his instructions. There was a momentary silence, and then the Professor began to speak, as if he was drawing each words from long buried memories of a better time. The words coming out as if each word was precious, to be spoken of fondly, and somehow imbued with a reverence that could not be denied.

"Bless us, oh Lord, and these, thy gifts which we have received from thy bounty. Bless those gathered around this table, that they may find solace in thy hands. Forever and ever, Amen."

* * *

Harry Potter stood looking at himself in the mirror in Snape's bathroom. Or should it be herself, he asked himself. The potion that Snape had given him had turned him into a girl. It was supposed to be temporary, but Harry did not trust Snape.

He only really needed to wash his face before he retreated to the room he'd been given, as he'd taken a shower before he left Privet Drive. Harry couldn't help staring at himself in the mirror, though. The changes had been complete, but until this moment he had not been able to really see the changes himself.

Though it wasn't the most significant change, it was the hair that caught his attention in the mirror. No longer was it black and unruly. Now it was red, tendrils of flame framing his face and cascading down to his shoulders. He still was wearing the deep green button down shirt that Mrs. Weasley had transfigured for him. He couldn't sleep in it. Ginny had provided him a night shirt.

He removed the shirt, bringing to his gaze in the mirror, the breasts. Or should it be The Breasts. It seemed like they should be capitalized. They were an unfamiliar weight on his chest, not as big as Hermione's, and certainly not in Lavender's league. He'd noticed the development of the girls in his year last year. None of them could hide their breasts under the robes, as most could have in his first year. Harry wished he could hide his.

The cool air of the bathroom made his nipples perk, and he shivered a bit in the circulation below the bathroom fan. Harry raised his right hand to touch his breasts, to prove that they were real. Then, almost of their own accord his hands moved to lower his pants, accidentally dropping the worn boxers along with the pants that Mrs. Weasley had transfigured. He was glad that she'd replaced the dress than Snape had transfigured. He was not going to ever trust what Snape transfigured.

Harry's eyes briefly darted down, catching sight of what had replaced the equipment he was born with. As his gaze once again shot upwards, he blushed. With his eyes once again focused straight forward, the though suddenly crossed his mind, the carpet matches the drapes.

He picked up the wash cloth that he'd put in the sink, and lathered it up, trying to keep his mind off the changes down there by focusing on his face. There wasn't a lot of distance, so he could see everything clearly. Harry didn't think much had changed with the contours of his face, but across his nose there was a sprinkling of freckles that he hadn't had before.

He scrubbed his face a bit roughly, noticing that there was a bit of a scent to the soap, though he couldn't quite place what it was. He rinsed out the cloth, and then bent over the sink to make it easier to wash off the soap from his face. Then he let out the water, wringing out the cloth before hanging it up where he'd been told to do, on top of the shower curtain rod. Only then did he pick up the towel to dry off.

Over the head went the night shirt, before he picked up his glasses. A quick check, and he decided they didn't need to be cleaned at the moment, so on they went, and the world went back into focus again. If only it would focus to show what he had been when he left Hogwarts.

Ginny had said she slept in her night shirt and panties, never her bra, so Harry slid back on his boxers, before placing the rest of his clothes in the hamper. He then opened the door and stepped out into the hall, right into of Professor Snape.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, trembling, and nearly falling. His balance seemed to be a bit out.

"I take it from the fact that you re-shelved the Comprehendum of Acceptable Names, you have chosen one?" Snape said, gently stabilizing Harry's stance.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He'd spend a good hour, while Ginny prepared for bed, looking through the book for names that could be short for Harry. Most of them were also forms of Henry, and to his mind that was a bit too close, though he'd once wished that his own name was Henry. "Harikleia Zhaklina Prince."

"An interesting choice," Snape said. "We shall say that it was your father's choice, with your mother having named Ginny. I shall have the paperwork updated. I shall have to return briefly to Privet Drive. It seems that I forgot to release the spell I put your uncle under."

"Don't bother," Harry muttered.

"There are times when responsibility goes against one's wishes. I shall return in less than an hour. I trust that both of your can survive that length of time. Ginny is already asleep, having consumed a dose of dreamless sleep. I expect you shall follow, shortly"

* * *

Severus Snape appeared with a crack back in the parlor of Number Four Privet Drive. Vernon Dursley was still seated on the sofa, held there by the petrification spell that Severus had cast while Harry was undressing. The screen that he'd transfigured had already reverted to the coffee table.

"Vernon Dursley, I am so glad that the spell hasn't worn off," Severus said, wandlessly and wordlessly casting a spell to ensure that he would not be interrupted. Then with great malice, he invaded Vernon's mind, using the incantation so the vile man would know he did it. "Legilimens! You feel quite frustrated, being unable to move under my spell. I know you hate magic. You're struggling against its bounds.

"You really shouldn't be doing that. I can see your doctor advised you to be careful, loose weight, and exercise more. You haven't been doing that have you? I didn't think so. Your heart rate seems to be increasing, and I can see your temple throbbing as you try to move, to escape the wizard standing in front of you.

"There is no escape. If you were to by some miracle reverse the petrification that I have you under, I would simply re-apply it before you could even stand. Oh dear, it seems that you were not able to get to the toilet. You really shouldn't have consumed all of that wine at your last meal it seems that it had gone right through you. I really should clean it up from Petunia's sofa. It's something she really doesn't need, given what's happening to you.

"You see, I do not countenance any abuse of my students. I especially countenance the abuse of the son of Lily Evans. You see, I grew up with Lily and Petunia. Lily was the only woman I ever loved. I may have never forgiven James Potter from marrying her, and looking at his son, who is the spitting image of him, may set me on edge, but Harry is Lily's child, and I will do anything, I have done everything, to protect him.

"I have defied the most evil dark lord, a dark lord who had bound my very soul with darkness, when I learnt he was going after Lily. I can do no less to those that abused her son, the only living memory of the one I loved. Feeling a bit of fear, Vernon?

"I saw the marks you left on him. I can see every memory you have of abusing him. I can see the perverse pleasure you took at harming him, trying to kill his very soul. I can see how each strike of your belt excited you. It is a good thing that Harry was not female when Professor Dumbledore left him on your threshold. I can see what you would have done to her. She wouldn't have been able to walk normally after you were done. You've been thinking on it on and off since he was transformed in front of you.

"I was one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, a member of his inner circle, and his potions master. I could brew potions that would ruin your life, that would have you dying in pain. I could curse you with pain so terrible that your mind would break. I could force you to do unspeakable acts where you would never escape witnesses to your crimes, and no one would ever believe that I made you do it.

"I could do all of that, but I am not. You see, right now, your heart is beating so hard that it's about to bust loose some of that stuff that's been building up in your blood vessels for years. The question is, will it lodge in your heart, or your brain. Personally I'm hoping for your brain.

"You've just started to feel a pain in your chest, haven't you. Your breath seems a bit short Vernon, and you're sweating heavily. I bet you wouldn't even be able to stand if I let up my spell, or call for help. Perhaps I should let Petunia in. She might be able to call for help, and get you to the hospital on time. I think not.

"No, Vernon, you're not going to get help. You can feel everything closing in on you now, can't you? Your heart isn't beating right any more. You're not getting enough oxygen to your brain. You really shouldn't have let yourself become so angry, Vernon. You did it to yourself. Good Night, Vernon."

Severus undid all his spells on Number Four Privet Drive and apprarated back to his house. He left Vernon Dursley falling off the couch, only now able to call out in a rough strained voice, as night closed in on him. "Petunia!" Then with less force, "help."

* * *

**_Author's Note: _**_I'm not saying he's dead or alive. He could be surviving. He could be spending a lot of time in a coma. He could end up with a severe disability. Or he could come out with just a brush with death and no further physical issues. Feel free to convince me as to what results from this last scene. _


	5. Take Two of These in the Morning

_**Author's Note:**__I'm finally out of the set up part of this story. Okay, you still have to meet Harry and Ginny's psychologist, but other than that every one is firmly in place. _

**Chapter Four**

Harry Potter woke up his first morning as a girl, rather uncomfortably. While the bed was actually rather good, with a nice firm but not to firm mattress, and the pillow was not that bad, though he would have preferred something a bit thicker, that did not account for the differences in anatomy causing problems with his preferred sleeping position.

Harry tended to sleep partially on his side, mostly on his stomach, though. It was the result of a long standing habit, developed due to the fact that he could easily curl up in a protective ball if his uncle started his punishment. With his new breasts, however, it had driven him into a slightly modified position that had left him with a rather stiff neck and from the way it felt, possibly a bruised breast. His boxers were also a bit twisted and dug into his hip.

Harry stretched in bed, his left hand hitting the wall behind the head of the bed, before rolling out to stand. Sleepily he removed the night shirt and put on the robe that had been hanging on a hook on the backside of the door. Only then did he turn on the light, put on his glasses and take a look at himself in the mirror.

His red hair was a tangle around his face, and with only the robe on, he showed an uncomfortable amount of cleavage. Off went the robe, and back on the night shirt, before putting back on the robe. There was a brief pause as he had to readjust his boxers, as they had sild down a bit. He hoped they'd stay up.

Snape had left a brush on the shelf bellow the mirror, which was mercifully a non-magical one. Harry had suffered through the insults against his hair with two successive ones in the Gryffindor Boys dorm, and shuddered at the thought of what his messy shoulder length hair would result in. Recalling some instructions overheard in the Gryffindor common room, Harry began to carefully brush the tangles out of his hair.

As he brushed, he marveled at the way his hair looked like tendrils of fire surrounding his face. It didn't take long to do, actually. In a way, the longer hair seemed to be a lot easier to tame, or at least meet the admittedly low standards that Harry had for the styling of his hair.

Then out of the room, and down the stairs, Harry went, moving as quietly as possible. Dudley always pounded down the stairs, but not Harry. Harry kept things quiet, making sure that Uncle Vernon was only woken by his alarm, or perhaps the scent of breakfast. It was always best when Uncle Vernon woke due to the scent of a well prepared breakfast.

It was not yet light enough in the kitchen to cook without the lights, so Harry flicked on the switch. The light flickered on with a slight hum. Harry examined the stove and other appliances. They all looked old, but serviceable. There was a coffee pot next to the stove, ready to go on the stove. As Harry watched, the stove turned on and the coffee pot slid over, just as the clock turned to six twenty.

Harry smiled. It was obvious that Snape had sent up that. He moved to the ice box, as the Professor had called it, and pulled out a couple eggs. Judging from the supply, it looked like eggs was part of Snape's regular breakfast. A little butter on the frying pan, and Harry was able to start up his favorite type of eggs, scrambled. He knew how to make others, like sunny side up, but scrambled appealed to him. He removed a couple plates from the cupboard, and pulled a couple slices of bread from the bread box.

Harry liked his bread lightly toasted, and well buttered. It didn't take long for him his breakfast to be ready, but he didn't move from his post near the stove as he started to nibble his toast. He as hungry this morning, so he expected that he'd probably need to make more eggs. He didn't think Snape would begrudge him an extra egg or two, unlike Aunt Petunia.

Looking back through the door way to the hall, he spotted Professor Snape turning down the hall from the stairs. "Good Morning Professor, how do you like your eggs?" Harry asked.

"Sunny-side up, two," Snape replied, as he entered the kitchen. The Professor was definitely not dressed like he did at Hogwarts. He wore a gray collared shirt, with a trio of buttons, the top of which was not buttoned, and a pair of slightly faded black pants.

"Coming right up," Harry said, retrieving another pair from the ice box. He neatly cracked them and began to cook them, only pausing to pour a cup of coffee for the Professor. As he handed Snape the cup, Harry saw an expression that he had rarely if ever seen on the Head of Slytherin.

Snape smiled.

* * *

Severus Snape was not a morning person, really. He was more of one than several of his colleagues though. With just the scent of his favored Turkish blend of coffee, he would wake up enough to function. At Hogwarts, he had it strategically delivered to his main room, on an occasional table that was right outside the door to his bedroom. At Spinner's End, he'd set up his coffee pot to make six cups every morning, charmed to start at just the right time for the scent to waft up and wake up in time to have a relaxing morning. Not that he drank six cups, he just couldn't get it to make any less.

He didn't expect that when he entered his kitchen, still in his night robe, Harry Potter would be busy making eggs. For just a moment, the resemblance between mother and transformed to a daughter son fed a long dead dream of waking up to Lily cooking. He quickly banished the thoughts to answer Harry's request on what eggs he wanted.

The Daily Prophet arrived just as he sat down to await his eggs, cup of coffee in his hand. He placed the coffee down to retrieve the Prophet from the owl. Unrolling it, he looked at the headline. It looked like the Daily Prophet was going to do another Thousand Gallon Draw.

The plate of eggs seemed to just appear on the table in front of him. "Thank you, Harry," Snape said. "I did not expect you to be cooking breakfast this summer."

"I always do it for the Dursleys," Harry said. "It's habit."

Severus took a bite of the eggs. They were perfect. "Understand that I'm not going to require you to wake up early every morning to do breakfast. I am not your despicable aunt or uncle. I want you to have a much more normal Summer. You are about to turn thirteen, and I've never known a teenager not to want to sleep in. I certainly encounter enough of my older Slytherins sleeping through breakfast each year."

"I kind of like to cook, especially when can make something for myself," Harry admitted, putting another slice of toast in the toaster. "Aunt Petunia had me cooking since I was five, especially breakfast. I'm really good at cooking breakfast, dinner, not so much. My pies and tarts, though get rave reviews."

"Then, I trust you to make breakfast at your pleasure," Severus said, turning to sports. "We shall be going shopping for new attire for you and Ginny as soon as she is up and ready." As he looked down at the scores, he caught the fall of Harry's boxers from under her night shirt. "I suggest you look for a more fitting pair for shopping."

* * *

Ginny Weasley had not expected to get much when Professor Snape had taken her and Harry to the muggle clothing store. She had a rather good supply of almost everything she thought she needed. A couple new outfits that weren't second hand would be nice, but she really didn't expect anything more.

The strange thin white bags she placed on the bed in her room for the summer were bulging. She wasn't sure what the bags were made of, but they were surprisingly strong for their thinness. The first thing she took out of one of the bags was one of her new bras. She really hadn't expected to need one, but after the lady measured Harry for his, the lady had turned to her. She hadn't expected to get measured, and being told she was wearing a too small bra was entirely unexpected.

Ginny took off her blouse, and for the first time attempted to put on a real muggle style bra. She'd listened closely when the sales lady had advised Harry on "a better way to put on a bra." The bras she'd seen at school with the well developed members of her class hadn't had hooks like this one. It took a couple attempts to hook them right, and Ginny was glad she'd followed the suggestion to do the hooks in the front, then rotate it around and pull the straps over her shoulders.

She pulled out a shirt, something the sales lady had called a knock off polo. Ginny buttoned all but one button after she slid it over her head, before pulling out the jeans. Genuine Levi jeans. She'd heard all about the brand from some of the muggle-born girls. It was, according to Lisa-Marie, the original, accept no substitute brand. Ginny had managed to score one pair stone-washed, one pair black, and two pairs of the original dark blue denim.

She quickly replaced her shorts with the black jeans, before taking a look at herself in the mirror. With her hair cascading across the deep blue shirt, instead of being restrained in any way, Ginny thought she looked a lot more grown up. Ponytails made her hair easy to handle, but there was something about the way her hair looked unrestrained that Ginny always liked. She pushed her hair back over her shoulders.

She was ready to see this ... what had Professor Snape called her again ... yes ... psychologist. Ginny wasn't sure what that word meant, but after four days with only ten not so good hours of sleep, she would take any help she could get.

* * *

Petunia Evans Dursley sat in the Emergency Room of Prince John Hospital in Greater Whinging. The room was white, the chairs were white, the nurses wore white ... the only color in the room was Petunia's amethyst earrings, reflected in the steel top of the table, in between ancient copies of the Times.

Petunia felt as if her life had been whited out from the moment she'd been shunted into this room. Her Vernon had a heart attack, or as the person in the ambulance had said, an acute myocardial infarction type one. Petunia had just known it would happen some day. Vernon had long spurned the advice of his doctors. Publically she tended to side with him. That was what she'd always been told that a wife should do. Privately she'd worried, where and when no one could see.

Vernon was all she really had. She had not had a job since she had worked at the flower shop before she had Dudley. Dudley ... where was Dudley? She'd left her Dudley-kins home alone. He had just turned thirteen. Dudley couldn't survive alone without his mother ... without his father. What were they going to do if Vernon died.

Marge wouldn't help. Marge would probably contest Vernon's will. Petunia hated Marge. She tried to hide it, for Vernon's sake. Her dogs always scared Petunia. She'd seen them attack Harry, and knew that they could turn on Petunia and Marge would not lift a finger.

Where was the doctor? What was going on with Vernon? Petunia's vision was washed out with tears as she waited in the room, hoping beyond all hope that her Vernon would recover, that the surgeon would come out and announce that all was well.

Petunia remembered the last time she'd talked to Vernon, after Harry and his Professor had left. Vernon had been beside himself with anger that the Professor had frozen him. The reflection of the stone of her earrings reminded her of the shade that Vernon had taken while he was frozen by the spell. Petunia wanted to blame Severus, Lily's friend who had taken her sister away, for that. She couldn't honestly do so, no matter how much she wanted to. She'd seen Vernon that way so many times when somethings went other than the way he expected them to.

Here in the white of the room, Petunia couldn't hide anything from herself. The folds of the papers in front of her suddenly brought to mind the scars that she'd seen on the back of Harry Potter. Until he'd stood there, vulnerable, his eyes meeting hers, before Severus had raised the screen to provide Harry with some protection. Even after, his eyes still stared down at her over the barrier, as if to say don't deny what you saw.

Then he'd downed that potion, and suddenly it wasn't Harry Potter with his deep green eyes staring at her, but her sister Lily with those emerald eyes she'd always wished she had. Petunia knew it was still Harry, but the image was too much. She couldn't deny that she had done wrong, not with the spitting image of her sister Lily looking at her. If only he'd been her that first day of November when she'd found him on her steps.

It had been oh so easy to push Harry away. To associate him with the man who had put the nail in the coffin of her sister's exile from home by providing her with a new home, a home away from that jealous sister who deep down didn't want her sister to go away, who longed to pull her sister back into her embrace. To pull Lily into a hug and hear the whispers she'd heard again and again but had never believed, that she hadn't lost Lily.

But she had lost Lily. Lost her to a magical world, lost her to a school so far away from home, and lost her to a man that she'd loved dearly. She'd lost Lily long before Harry Potter had turned up on her doorstep with that letter, the letter that had changed everything. The letter that had made final Petunia's loss of her Irish twin.

And now she sat in this white, washed out world, knowing that her world had changed again. Before, she still had a chance. Before, she could have changed. Before, she could have met the challenge.

She had not. She had put her sister's child away in the closet. She could have shown love, not hate, and she infected the whole house with her hatred. If she had not been that way to Harry, maybe Harry wouldn't have shown so much reactive magic and driven Vernon to react with anger.

It was all her fault, that was the one thing that Petunia knew was true as she awaited word on her Vernon. If she hadn't done anything to Harry, neither would Vernon have, she was sure. If she had been better to Harry ... to Lily, she wouldn't be in this washed out white world.

Suddenly something else filled her view, a black t-shirt whose logo she couldn't read through her tears. A hand fell on to her shoulders, as she looked up into the blue-green eyes of her son.

"Mum, is Daddy going to be okay?" Dudley said, his voice sounding not the mature and assured newly christened teen, but the breaking sadness of a child whose world had just cracked open.

"I don't know, Dudley," Petunia admitted. "No one's told me anything since they sent me here."

"It's bad, isn't it?" Dudley asked. "Daddy might die."

"I hope not," Petunia said, drawing her son into her lap. His heavy weight leaning into her somehow grounded her, ended her spiral of thoughts. "I'll be here for you, always my little Dudley-kin."

"No you won't," Dudley said as he buried his face in Petunia's shoulder, just like he'd done when he was much littler. "Harry's parents are dead."

Petunia didn't know how to say anything to that. She'd known that the words were coming. Having taken in an orphan, how could she not? All she could do was hold her son, hoping that by her arms around him she could reassure him in a way that words that couldn't come did not.

"Mrs. Dursley?"

* * *

_I think I'll let the fate of Vernon Dursley go a little more._


	6. Why don't you tell me about your

_**Author's Note**__: Yes, I have received requests from Mr. Crawford ..._

_I'd like to thank the following for their assistance with this chapter: Jim Trigg, nightelf_,_ and Red Rider_

**Chapter Five**

Doctor Chalice reminded Ginny of an older Professor McGonagall, older as in older than Dumbledore. It wasn't so much wrinkles, or anything like that. She had stark white hair and silver glasses, but was obviously quite fit, even accounting for the cane which was more evident in its disuse than use. She wore a deep gray jacket with a green tartan scarf around her neck that matched her skirt. Somewhat incongruent was the pair of white sneakers, the ones with the swish logo that Professor Snape had dismissed as overpriced.

Ginny had been directed to lay back on the long couch with a carved swan on the back. Since Ginny preferred going barefoot in the summer, she'd readily agreed to kick off her sandals. Doctor Chalice had provided her a cup of tea, which Ginny had flavored with honey and a lot of cream. Some soft music was already playing in the background. It only took a minute or so for Ginny to identify it as Fingal's Cave.

"Now Ginny, my job is to help you recover from being possessed," the Doctor said. "There are many things we will do to help. Sometimes we will just talk. It might be about the possession, it might be about something seemingly unrelated. Sometimes we will do exercises to help build your mind up to resist future attempts at possession. Today we will start with one of those exercises.

"Many times this art has been taught by trying to clear your mind. It is not the best way, not when your mind has already been attacked. Instead, I want you to listen closely to the music, to put your mind to the tune.

"Think of a sea coast, with high cliffs, stretching up like celery stalks from the sea to land. Imagine the water swelling, rising and falling against the walls. Imagine it washing in and out of a cave, water flowing under the archway, inside the cave. The cool sea water and going in and out, faster now, swirling around the pillars embedded in the coast. Imagine the sea spray, arcing up above stones at the foot of the cliff.

"Smell the sea air in your mind, the salt spray, the cool breeze. Watch the water coast in and out, swirling as it finds the cave, then pouring out of it. Keep the picture of the coast in your mind. Imagine the waves breaking on the stone, the hard stone turning water to spray. Imagine the water receding, leaving a beach to walk on. Feel the sand and water as you walk along the coast. Rush into the waves, and feel the water lap against your legs. Run through it, feeling the joy of freedom.

"Now take another deep breath of that sea air, and open your eyes."

Ginny hadn't even realized that she had closed her eyes. In the moments before she'd been told to open them again, she'd actually believed she was running on the beach at the base of the cliff.

"You were there, weren't you?"

Ginny nodded.

"Now, I want you to remember that feeling. Bring it to mind when you need to. Use it to clear your mind when you wake from a nightmare. We'll be doing several of these over the next few weeks, until you can build that calm state anytime you need it.

"Now, though, we still have a quarter of an hour left in our allotted time. So, perhaps you can tell me about yourself."

With the music ending, there was silence in the room. Ginny wasn't sure how to start. Her mind was suddenly full of her worries, washed back in like the tide. "I'm stupid," the words tumbled out. "I let Tom in. He acted like he was my friend, when I was so lonely. None of my brothers had time for me, and the other girls in my dorm would hardly talk to me. I knew what Daddy had said, not to do it unless you knew where the brain was. I still wrote to him. I still responded to his questions.

"I let him in. I told him about everything. I even told him everything about Harry ... how he defeated the dark lord the first time, and then again his first year. I told him the crush I had on him and every little detail I saw. I told Tom everything, and he nearly killed Harry!"

"So, he nearly killed Harry, not you," Doctor Chalice said.

"He wouldn't have been able to try, if it wasn't for the bloody diary," Ginny said, her voice rising. "If I hadn't written in that diary, he wouldn't have been bit by that basilisk. If I hadn't written in that diary, I wouldn't have let loose that basilisk. It was only a fluke that it petrified everyone instead of killing them. I nearly murdered so many people!"

"I see," Doctor Chalice said. "And it is all your fault, even though you were deliberately exposed to a class five artifact so evil that there are only three things known to be able to destroy it."

"Deliberately?" the word escaped Ginny's lips with surprise, and not just a little hope.

"Albus was fairly certain about that," Doctor Chalice replied. "He wouldn't say who was behind it, but one of the Dark Lord's school things finding its way into the family of the man behind the Muggle Protection Act ... it would be hard not to be deliberate."

With those words, Ginny felt her body suddenly go weak, as if everything that kept her upright suddenly turned to mush. She thought she should be angry at the idea that someone would deliberately target her, but at the moment it was as if all of her emotions had been drained out of her.

* * *

Harry sat on the steps in Doctor Chalice's entry way. Ginny was behind the closed parlor doors having her session with the psychologist. There was actually a chair next to the door, but that was the domain of Harry's temporary guardian. At the moment, Harry was fuming as he stared at Professor Snape. He was not happy about his current situation.

In his considered opinion, Professor Severus Snape was going to be the bane of Harry's existence this summer. Of course, that wasn't going to be the only problem. On his way over, dressed in a new button down shirt, pale blue, just like Ginny's polo, and a black pleated skirt that Snape had suggested, a boy had passed him and given a wolf whistle of appreciation of Harry's summertime form.

He'd hoped that the whistle was for Ginny, who had somehow managed to get to wear jeans, but the boy, who Harry figured had to be at least a fourth year, had followed up to his buddy with a line about there being two hot girls on this street now. Somehow the stares of the two boys after that made him feel vaguely unclean.

Since then, he'd been seated on this step, while Ginny talked, knowing his turn was next. He had nothing to do but think and stare at Professor Snape. There might be another person or two to blame for the fact that Harry was sitting on a step, in a skirt, wearing a poorly adjusted bra. To be perfectly honest, he had no problem with his hair becoming red, and longer. And getting away from the Dursleys was a good thing in his opinion. Being a girl, though ... he couldn't put words to his feelings on the matter. It was just ... ugh.

He hoped that he'd never have to see his Uncle Vernon again. If Snape hadn't lied to him, there was a good chance of that, depending on his Aunt Petunia.

The doors to the parlor slid open. Doctor Chalice emerged, placing her silver framed glasses in her white bun of hair. Her hand was on Ginny's shoulders as she led her out of the room. Harry could just see into the room with its full book cases, couch, and chair. "Now Ginny, remember what I told you."

Ginny looked exhausted to Harry, as if she'd been drained of the energy she'd had while they shopped that morning. She looked up and met Doctor Chalice's eyes briefly, and nodded.

"Russ, take Miss Ginny back to her room," the Doctor ordered. "Let her sleep, without any potions for now. If you hear her starting to have a nightmare, wake her up, and give her a quarter dose of dreamless, along with a teaspoon of Calming Draught."

"Quarter dose of normal, or of adjusted for her size?" Professor Snape asked.

"For her size," the Doctor ordered. "I assume you know the calculations, little 'Russ?"

"I am a Potions Master, Doctor," Professor Snape said, with an air of long suffering. "You will see Harry back to my residence?"

"Certainly. Harry, come on in."

The doors slid back closed behind Harry as he entered the parlor. It didn't seem to be much of a place. The front window wasn't that big, but it gave plenty of light to the room, even with the translucent curtain pulled across it. It was painted cream, mostly, with one wall being filled with a book case. There was a chaise lounge with a carved swan in its back, a side table, and a mismatched with everything else reclining chair done in what Harry identified as Black Watch tartan.

He took a seat on the chaise lounge, almost laying, his feet just hanging off the edge near the bottom. Only memories from his time at the Dursleys' prevented him from putting his feet on the lounge. The sandals he was wearing shouldn't be on the furniture.

"Go ahead, take off your shoes, if it would make you more comfortable," the Doctor said, as she sat down.

"I haven't been comfortable in days," Harry mumbled as he undid the strap so he could slide off the sandals. Harry pushed back his hair as he resumed his position, his bare feet now feeling the soft fabric with his toes.

"You know, you look remarkably like one of 'Russ's old friends, Lily Evans," the Doctor said, in a soft clear voice that seemed to project a sense of comfort. "No one else I've seen had quite those green eyes and flaming red hair."

Harry looked up. With a surprisingly soft voice, which he almost didn't recognize as coming from himself, he replied, "she was my mother." The tension he'd felt since morning had started to ease.

"I shall have to share a few stories with her someday," the Doctor said. "Now, Albus tells me that you're under a lot of stress, and have issues with your life. Would you care to talk to me about them. You don't have to. If you'd like, we can just talk for the next hour about how I knew your mother."

Harry considered it for a moment. He really didn't know much about either of his parents, but he also knew that he wasn't there for that. Asking about his parents now, that would be avoiding things, and Harry was a Gryffindor. As Seamus had once said, "We don't retreat, Gryffindors charge!"

Harry looked down at her feet, past her breasts, trying to figure out where to start. She nearly changed her first comment to her current sex, as the sight of them caused her to mentally shift her pronouns to match her current state. No, that wasn't what bothered her most, really. It really wasn't anything that happened to her at Hogwarts, saving the school from a Dark Lord was not a constant in Harry's life. No, if there was one thing that was really where to start with the mess of her life, it had to be the Dursleys.

"Why don't Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon like me?" she began. "I know I was left on their doorstep with just a letter telling them to raise me, but I'm their nephew ... niece for the moment I guess. I'm family. Aren't you supposed to love your family? They don't love me. I'm just a beast of burden, shoved in the cupboard when I'm not needed. Nothing I do can ever please them. I got straight As in my first year of Primary, and not a word was said about it. Instead Uncle Vernon hit me and shoved me in the cupboard for upstaging Dudley.

"I cook almost every meal for my Aunt, cousin, and Uncle when I'm at home, but nothing is ever good enough. It's either too hot or too cold, too sweet or too salty. And most of the time I only get the barest of tastes of it. Sometimes Uncle Vernon even puts it in the trash rather than let me eat. Just once I'd like to actually get to bake something and get to eat some of it."

"What's your favorite to make?"

"I know it's considered more American, but I like apple pie. Especially when I get to do the lattice crust. It looks so juicy and good ... I know that Aunt Petunia likes it with Granny Smith apples, and I've learnt how to pick out the best ones."

"I shall make sure that Professor Snape lets you bake at least one apple pie this summer then. You'll have to tell me how it tastes."

"I'll bring you a piece."

"Now, Harry, I don't know all about your family, but from what I do know, it's not you causing them not to like you. You seem to be a good student; despite what he may tell you, Professor Snape believes that at the very least you're not part of the dunderheads he usually has to teach. You don't get into trouble often, and when you do, it's generally with the best of reasons. You turn your homework in on time, and keep your bed and trunk neat at school."

"Couldn't even try to be messy after living with Aunt Petunia," Harry said roughly. "It's a habit now."

"A very good habit to have, if Minerva's opinion of most of Gryffindor's organizational habits is true. Now, I won't say that everything your Aunt and Uncle have told you is wrong, after all even a stopped clock is right twice a day, but the next time you start thinking about what your aunt and uncle have said to you, do not take it to heart, take it with a grain of salt."

Harry huffed, with a puff of air rearranging her bangs. "I know they're full of it, sometimes, but is it bad that I just once would like one compliment from Aunt Petunia? Just once I'd like to hear that dinner was good, or a thank you for cleaning the shower. Just once I'd like to have Uncle Vernon say that I did a good job mowing the lawn, clipping the hedges, or washing the car, instead of him finding an imaginary flaw, hitting me, or locking me in the cupboard without dinner. Just once!"

She felt tears on her cheeks, as she found her body suddenly racked with sobs. A gentle arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she looked up to see the offer of a handkerchief to blow her nose. As she recovered from her sobbing spell, she found herself in the gentle hug of Doctor Chalice. It was the first time that she'd really been comforted while she cried that she could remember. She let her feelings drain into the comfort, somehow convinced to just let it go, and know that for once, someone cared.

"That feel better?" the Doctor asked, after a few minutes and the tears had stopped. Harry nodded. "We're almost done with our scheduled time today, so perhaps we should adjourn to my kitchen. I just so happen to have a dozen Granny Smith apples under a stasis spell there that you might take to bake a pie where you are staying."

* * *

Professor Severus Snape was looking in on a soundly sleeping Ginny Weasley when he heard the squeak of his front door opening to herald the arrival of his other summer charge. He really need to oil those hinges. The footsteps of said charge, sounded to be agitated. It didn't sound like Harry was coming upstairs, though.

Closing Ginny's door carefully, he headed downstairs. As he turned toward the kitchen off of the stairs, he saw that Harry had a bag and had opened the ice box. There was a clunk, as Harry put an apple into one of the bins in the bottom of the ice box. "If this is how you treat apples, no wonder you've had trouble preparing woozle eggs." Severus said.

Harry looked up at the ceiling, took a deep breath, before placing the rest of the apples into the bin in a much more controlled and eased manner.

"So, did you leave upset from Doctor Chalice's, or did something else happen?" Severus asked after all the apples were in the bin.

"When I was walking back, a guy came up, put his arm around me, and asked if I was new," Harry began. "I didn't reply, and tried to shrug him off, but he pulled me closer, and asked if I'd go out with him. I told him no, and asked him to let go. I had to twist out of his grasp."

Severus did not take Harry into his arms, he knew that would not be accepted by the girl. Instead, he stood and offered, "You shouldn't have had to do that. No means no, and that is not just a phrase for intimate encounters. I shall see that the boy is reminded of that. Describe the boy." He put a little bit of force behind the last sentence, hoping to trigger an automatic response. He was not disappointed.

"He was about six inches taller, brown hair in a bowl cut, wearing a black Queen t-shirt," Harry rattled off.

"Very good," Severus replied. "Ginny is currently resting. When she wakes up, I want you to talk to her about how to deal with unwanted male attention. If she requires prompting, ask what she did to Pucey. It should be entertaining, to say the least."

"Wasn't he the Slytherin who ended up hung above the Head Table in the Great Hall with big lactating breasts, mooing?" Harry asked

"That would be him," Severus replied. "If you'll excuse me, I have a certain boy to play Batman to."

Severus summoned his cape as he headed back to his front door. From the description Harry had given, there was really only one boy that fit the description on Spinner's End. It had to be Jerome Crawford. That meant he had two stops, the first of which was readily apparent the moment he stepped out of his house.

On the corner were five teenage boys, of which Jerome was the oldest. Severus quickly identified the other four, Aiden Gallager, Spenser Mogan, Wesley Steele, and Liam Reid, the last being newer to Spinner's End than the others. They seemed to be gathered for the purpose of smoking, and if he was not mistaken, consuming beverages that they shouldn't be.

Severus carefully prepared his approach, making sure that they wouldn't detect him until he spoke up. At Hogwarts he was sometimes called the Dungeon Bat. Given the comics of his youth, he preferred simply, the Bat.

"A word, Mr. Crawford," Severus said, as he landed next to the boy, as he leaned up against the retaining wall at the exit of Spinner's End. Severus took great pleasure in the sudden shock that spread on the boy's face as he landed. "One of my charges reported that you made unwanted advances towards her."

"No, I no sir, Professor Snape," Crawford said, still trembling from Severus's appearance. "I didn't do anything to any of your charges."

"Do not call either of the girls I am hosting this summer liars," Severus said. "It seems you need a refresher on treating girls properly. Do I have to arrange another lesson?"

"No Professor Snape," Crawford said, his voice breaking.

"See that I don't," Severus said, swiftly turning and disappearing from their midst.

The boys were silent for a moment, long enough for Severus to reposition himself in the alcove of the door of number two.

"Why are you so scared of that man, Jerome?" Liam asked.

"You don't get on the bad side of Professor Snape, ever," Crawford said. "He knows things, and can make things happen. I heard that he once took care of a man who was harassing Widow Poole. They never heard from him again. He has this strange tattoo of a snake coming out of a skull, that when you see it just oozes evil. Trust me Liam, he warned us about his charges this summer. We do anything to those reds, and we'll never be able to do it again."

"Right," Liam said, disbelieving.

Severus decided he needed to watch that boy ... but perhaps it would be best to start with the boy's parents. He didn't need either of his charges to need to deal with sexual harassment on top of everything else.

* * *

Dudley Dursley slammed the door to Harry's Room behind him. It had once been known as his second bedroom, but he'd never call it that again, assuming Harry ever saw it again. Since Harry had left, the night before Dudley's father's death, without a word to Dudley, he had no idea if he'd return, ever.

Dudley had just fled his mother, who was wailing in the kitchen, at the moment. His mother had been trying to contract all of his father's relatives, to let them know of his father's death. So far, not a single call had been made. His mother wasn't ready to talk to anyone at the moment, not even Dudley. She'd thrown her personal address book at him.

Dudley had caught it, and fled.

He would have fled outside, but a crack of thunder, and the sounds of a sudden downpour had diverted him upstairs. The crack of thunder had been followed by another wail from his mother, sending him up the stairs at a rather impressive speed. Then a flash of lightning had illuminated the family portrait at the head of the stairs, oddly highlighting his father.

Dudley had darted into Harry's bedroom, unwilling to face another reminder of his father's death.

Panting, Dudley leaned against the back of the door, the book he caught still in his hands. As he waited for his breath to catch, he looked at the book. It was a deep green book, with the "L" in "L.E." modified into a P, with a "D" added afterwards. Dudley opened it to the front piece, discovering an inscription:

"To my sister Tunny, some places should not be forgotten. Lily."

He didn't expect such a thing in an address book. It was something usually expected of a really book, not this. Dudley started to page through the book. There was Dursley, Margarita in the Ds. He knew that number, but he hadn't known that her name was Margarita. He'd always heard her called Marge. In the Es was one for his late grandparents, but also for the family of Mark Evans. Not for the first time he wondered if they were related somehow. Several of his friends parents were listed with his friends' names in brackets. Then Dudley reached "P."

There was only one entry on the first page of Ps, nothing else on the front or back. It looked like the page had got a bit wet, and there was a piece of tape holding the bottom of the page in place. It read, "Potter, Lilly &amp; James [Harry]" with an address of "Potter's Cottage, Godric's Hallow, Glos, GL16"

A picture was stuck on the back side. It looked like a rather standard school picture of a just entering her teens girl with bright red hair. Dudley thought it looked quite a bit like Harry had, after that Professor, what's his name, had transformed him with some sort of potion, save that the girl in the photo had straighter hair.

Suddenly the image of Harry, changed into a girl, trying to pull that dress over his head filled Dudley's mind. He saw Harry turning a bit towards him, allowing Dudley to see a naked girl for the first time in his life, before the dress slid down. The image caused an involuntary reaction that Dudley tried to put out of his mind. It wasn't right to react like that to your cousin, even if your cousin had jut been transformed into a hot girl.

Dudley laid down on the bed. The mattress was bad, but Dudley knew why it was. It was one he'd ruined, and Harry had been forced to use afterwards. With the new image of Harry in his mind, Dudley found himself admitting to himself that ever since he could remember, he'd treated Harry poorly.

He'd hunted him, he'd bullied him, he'd hurt Harry in so many ways. Now, he let himself think of how he treated Harry, letting the train of thought go, keeping thoughts of his late father out of his mind. Now as images of his mistreatment of his cousin passed through his mind, he didn't see the scrappy black haired boy but the image of a vulnerable naked young red headed girl.

Dudley found a tear going down his cheek as he realized what he had done. He'd beat and bullied the one member of the family his age. He had isolated his cousin who had not just lost his father, like Dudley, but his mother too.

Suddenly an image form his childhood was brought to mind. His cousin, peering out of the cupboard under the stairs, his bright green eyes reflecting the light in the darkness. There was a hopeful look in his cousin's face. Suddenly the harsh words of Dudley's father rang out, echoing in Dudley's memory, "Don't encourage the Freak"

"The Freak" that was what Dudley's father had always called Harry. Dudley saw his father pushing Harry back into the cupboard and slamming the door.

Dudley tried to blink away the tears. He knew he should be crying for his father. His father was dead less than a day now, but Dudley wasn't crying for his father. Dudley shook his head, trying to get the image of pain on his cousin's face, now surrounded with flaming red hair, out of his mind. He didn't want to think about his loss, and in avoiding it, he'd recalled one of his most shameful memories of his treatment of his cousin.

He looked down at the address book again. Somehow some pages had turned, and it was now on the S's, on a page with an address and another picture, turned to face the page, the cello-tape yellow with age on the outer edge. Dudley freed the picture from where it had been tucked into the binding edge, revealing a picture of a young boy with sallow straight black hair, parted in the center, wearing a old fashioned gray shirt.

Above the picture was an address and phone number:

Snape, Eileen &amp; Tobias [Severus]  
10 Spinner's End  
Cokeworth  
03069 990127

Dudley knew this had to be the man, the professor, who had taken Harry away.

He got up out of the bed and headed to his own room and the extension that had been installed for his computer. He knew his mother wouldn't be calling anyone yet, so he would do it in her stead, calling the one person that would have been forgotten, that the Dursleys had always tried to forget that existed.

It was only right that Harry Potter would be the first person that Dudley told that Vernon Dursley was dead.


	7. A Hug for the Tears

_**Author's Note:**__ The muse has shifted gears once again for my week off. I'd like to thank jim trigg for providing assistance with this chapter._

* * *

**Chapter Six: **A Hug for the Tears

"Severus Snape residence. Professor Snape isn't here," Harry said as he picked up the phone. It had rung four times, and something told him that Ginny wasn't going to pick it up, despite being closer the table in the hall where the very old fashioned phone was.

"Harry?" It took Harry seconds to identify the voice of his cousin Dudley. It was not a voice he expected to hear again the rest of the summer.

"Dudley? How did you get this number?" Harry asked, his free hand pushing back his red hair.

"It's in Mum's address book that she threw at me," Dudley explained, his voice sounding tentative and a bit rough. "I just barely remembered the name of the Professor that took you away, and well, with what happened, I had to ring you up."

Harry had never heard Dudley speaking in such a tone. It sounded like he was at the edge of crying. Not the fake crying that his cousin had long ago perfected but real tears of profound sadness. Harry wanted to know why, but didn't know how to ask. "Well, you got me, your sex shifted cousin."

"You're still a girl?" Dudley asked, as if he was grasping any thing to avoid saying something.

"Still a girl, B-cups, red hair, and everything a boy shouldn't have personal knowledge of with for the summer." Harry said, his hand going to adjust the unfamiliar presence of his new bra.

"That's got to be weird," Dudley said.

Harry rolled his eyes, knowing that Dudley couldn't see him. Of course it was weird. He'd just come from the bathroom, in fact, and had almost tried to pee with equipment that he no longer had.

The silence from Harry at the statement extended to Dudley for a few moments, before Dudley said in a rush, "Dad's dead. He had a heart attack and died last night. Mum's all upset and can't do anything but cry out that Dad left her and what was she going to do. I don't know what to do either. I mean, I'm thirteen, and not ready to be man of the house. At least my schooling is paid for, but I don't know how we're going to you know, live."

Harry was shocked at Dudley's news. He'd heard Aunt Petunia trying to calm Uncle Vernon down with the line of 'you're going to give yourself a heart attack' several time when he was growing up, but the idea that Uncle Vernon would die. That Uncle Vernon would always be there to call him a freak, something he had to be more of than usual, given that he was currently disguised as a girl.

"He's dead?" Harry could hear the uncertainty in his voice, even with the change in pitch that his involuntary disguise had caused. "He can't be."

"I can't believe it either," Dudley replied. "I mean, I've always expected Dad to be there, and suddenly, I don't have one any more, like you don't."

"I don't think I can tell you what it's like to lose a dad, Dudley," Harry found himself responding. "I don't remember my parents, really, Dudley. You at least know what it is to have a real Dad who loved you. He may not have been good to me, but I don't think he ever did anything wrong to you."

"Dad was responsible for those scars on your back, wasn't he?" Dudley asked.

"Yeah," Harry admitted to his cousin for the first time. "They're from his belt."

"I never believed that was what he was doing to you," Dudley said. "Not until I saw the scars the night you left."

"Well, no one else seemed to believe me either," Harry said, in resignation. He'd often wondered why no one ever tried to help him. He'd once flat out told a teacher, showing her the scar, and the teacher acted like she hadn't even heard him say a word.

"I should have," Dudley said, his rough voice rolling without stop. "I should have seen how Dad treated you. I should have known that it was wrong that you did all the chores, that you slept under the stairs. I should have never treated you like I did. I shouldn't have hunted you. I should have stopped Ripper from going after you. I should have stood up for you when you were bullied. Instead, I did it to you."

"Yeah, well, that's what life at the Dursleys has always been to me." Harry said, slumping against the wall, and sliding down so she sat on the floor. "No one has really cared for me, ever. Not until I went to Hogwarts. And why do you care?"

"I don't know, Harry," Dudley said. "I kind of accepted everything. I mean, that's the way it's always been. Then when Dad died ... when I tried to think about what he did for me, suddenly I started to see you, and what he did to you. I couldn't get the image of you, as a girl, the dress sliding down to cover the scars on your naked body. I knew those scars had to have been Dad's fault. I mean I saw him create some of them.

"I couldn't think about Dad. I couldn't see him as the man I thought he was. Suddenly, I couldn't help but remember all the times he had gone after you, how he'd called you freak, how he kept confining you to your cupboard. I couldn't even look at a picture of him. I fled upstairs, not to my room, but to yours, were I couldn't see anything that reminded me of him. Oh, and I'm sorry that you had to put up with my old mattress too."

Harry had no idea what to say to Dudley. This didn't seem to be the Dudley she knew. The voice was the same, and the news wasn't entirely unexpected. Those give yourself a heart attack lines of Aunt Petunia's were not exactly a recent addition to the Dursley household. She knew she needed to say something, but all she could do was sit on the floor, holding the phone to her ear and wonder where the tear came from that was suddenly tracing its way down her cheek.

"Harry, are you still there?" Dudley said.

"Yes," Harry said, surprised at the roughness to her voice. She didn't care about Uncle Vernon, that was one thing she was sure of. Suddenly though, something had pierced the wall she'd placed around her. With the words Dudley had said, for the first time in her memory, a member of her family had told her that he cared for her. "Sorry Dudley. It's a lot to take in."

"I guess it is," Dudley said. "Do you have our number? I'm writing down my own copy of Professor Snape's so I can call you again when we know about the funeral."

"I still know it, Dudley," Harry said with a bit of exasperation briefly breaking through the weak and vulnerable feeling that had her sitting on the floor.

"Good," Dudley said. "Can I call you again, sometime? Not about Dad. I feel like I should know you better than I do. I don't even know your favorite color."

"Scarlet," Harry replied, the word almost catching in her throat. "Call me the next rainy day."

"I will Harry," Dudley said. "I think Mum wants the line now, though. Good bye."

"Good bye," Harry said, and suddenly the line was dead.

Harry didn't get up from the floor, she just reached up and hung the headset up on the receiver. Then she pulled her knees up against her breasts, and she let herself cry like Doctor Chalice had told her was okay. Tears flowed down her cheeks, and she let herself wallow in the feeling. There wouldn't be any Uncle Vernon to push her back into the cupboard under the stairs again.

Somehow letting her emotions rule her for the moment felt right. As a boy Harry knew he couldn't let all of his emotions show. He'd learnt to be tough, to not show how anything hurt him. No matter how much they called him a freak, he tried to never let it show. But now he was a girl. Sometimes girls cried for no reason he could tell at all, at least that's what Hermione had explained to him.

Now Harry was a girl, and she didn't feel the restraint that he'd had at the Dursleys. So she cried, releasing everything feeling that she had held back. She didn't think, she just cried, letting go.

Eventually, her sobs ended, and with one last sniffle, she stood up. Harry took a tissue from the box on the table and blew her nose. She felt a lot better after crying, which surprised her.

Then out of the corner of her eye, outside of her glasses's field, she caught sight of what she had been leaning against when she started the call. It was the door to the cupboard under the stairs.

Harry couldn't help but giggle, a sound he'd never done, but now, it felt right. He'd been sitting right outside what would have been both his safe haven and prison if he'd been at the Dursley's, crying. The giggle was short, but it left a smile on the boy turned girl's face as she headed into the kitchen to check on ingredients for the pie she intended to bake.

* * *

Ginny escaped Number Seven as soon as Harry started to speak to Dudley on the telephone. She didn't feel it was proper to listen on someone's conversation, and once Harry had identified the other side of the conversation, she decided that it would be best if she was elsewhere.

So, for the first time, she walked down Spinner's End. Not toward the end of the street, which ended in the wall of a big building of some sort, on which someone had painted a picture on the wall of a woman at a spinning wheel. Ginny wandered to the corner where Spinner's End met Weaver's Way. She didn't cross the street. Instead she found a seat on the retaining wall and laid back to watch the traffic.

Ginny had lived her life out in rural Devon. Until the first time she'd accompanied her family to King's Cross, she'd never seen a large number of cars. She'd seen two of them close up, her father's Ford and her mother's Stag, but those had been stationary for the most part, and as the youngest, she'd never gotten a good seat until the journey that had taken her to Spinner's End.

Being stuck in the back, between her brothers, she hadn't seen anything really. When she got to sit in the passenger seat of her mother's Triumph Stag, everything was different. She'd never realized how fast cars went. She'd been pushed back into the seat when her mum floored the gas to get on the M5. And then, watching cars come up on the left, or her mum passing them on the right. Her mum said that the Stag went zero to sixty as fast as a Comet 260, and was a lot more comfortable when it did.

She'd told her mum that you couldn't play Quidditch with a car.

When she was little, she hadn't really thought how many cars there were, and more so the implication of it. As she watched the cars going past her on Weaver's Way, she noticed that most of them seemed to just have a driver in them, though here and there, the passenger's seat would be occupied. One car that came to a stop on the other side of the street had a pair of young children, a boy and a younger girl in the back seat.

The boy looked a little like Harry. Ginny smiled as she watched the mother get the children out of the car. She'd dreamed more than once that she was going to be Mrs. Harry Potter. She was certain that she wasn't the only one.

She'd once dreamed about Harry rescuing her, and she was sure if she hadn't been having nightmares about the event, she'd be extending her memories of Harry waking her up with kisses, and perhaps more. Of course at the moment, she figured her mind would change the cute black haired boy into the ginger haired girl he current was in the middle of a kiss, which would be another nightmare.

The family went inside the house across the street, and Ginny turned her attention to the other cars going up and down Weaver's Way. A car went by without a top, its occupants singing at the top of their lungs that they were to be wild or something like that. A dog hung out the window of one, his tongue loose in the wind.

The wind of the passing cars lightly buffeted the sidewalk, sending a few pieces of paper across Ginny's feet. She looked down at her new footwear. She'd never had new footwear before. Her new shoes were so comfortable. She was wearing socks that nearly reached half way to her knees, instead of the ankle socks that her mum always insisted. Maybe it was time to do a little walking instead of watching.

* * *

Severus carefully opened the slim package that had been shipped to him. Inside was a paper wrapped hard cover. He carefully removed the paper, and bit of plastic, taking in the scent of a freshly printed book. On the top it read "Archive Editions," and it was the only way Professor Snape knew he'd ever get to own these comics from 1940. His hand touched and traced the outline of the Caped Crusader. He was a professor of potions at a boarding school, and paid appropriately for it.

He'd never own Batman #1, no matter how much he wanted to, so this was the best he could get. Severus opened Batman The Dark Knight Archives Volume One, so carefully as if it would explode if he wasn't.

"Professor?" Harry said from the doorway.

"Yes, Harry?" Severus said. It was quite strange to call Potter that, almost as strange as seeing him as the spitting image of his mother instead of his father. It was part of the girl's cover, though, and Severus hadn't spent years as a spy by failing to keep the cover going.

"While you were gone, I got a call from Dudley," Harry said, still standing in the doorway. "My Uncle Vernon finally had that heart attack that Aunt Petunia had been warning him about. He died yesterday."

Severus stood and walked around the desk. "Come here Harry." He could see the drying tracts of tears still on the Gryffindor's face. He'd never seen him cry at Hogwarts. He sat down in a chair against the wall on the other side of the desk, and pulled the girl into his lap, holding her against him, like he'd done to many Slytherins in the privacy of his office.

Severus was sure that most Gryffindors would not expect him to be able to comfort those in his house. After all, he was the unfeeling bat of the dungeon. It was true that when he first became Head of Slytherin, he hadn't known how to deal with it. Fortunately, his fellow Heads of House had helped him through it.

Tears were running down Harry's face again. He held her tightly as she sat across his lap. No words were said. It was not yet time for words. He let Harry cry herself out for what he was sure had to be at least the second time since she'd gotten the news. Only when the tears had stopped, did Severus wandlessly conjure a cloth, and gentely wiped the tears from his charge's cheeks. Then he handed the cloth to Harry, so she could blow her nose.

"I don't know why I'm crying," Harry said wiping his nose. "It's not like I really liked Uncle Vernon."

"Have you ever tried to get your Uncle's approval," Severus asked. "Tried to get him to praise you like he did his son."

"Of course I did!" Harry said. "Not that it did any good. It never does any good. Just once, just once, I'd like to have been praised. Just once, I'd like to be called normal, not some freak! It never happened though. I tried so hard to get his approval.

"I think he knew I wanted it to. A few times when I had just about given up, he'd ask something about my grades, or some chore he'd told me to do — and just for a minute after I told him, thought that he might just finally say that at least I was as good as Dudley. I never was. I never am."

"Harry, you are better," Severus said, as the young girl instinctively sought comfort by resting her head against his shoulder. "You're ninth in your year. You beat all but one of my Slytherins. True you're not on the level of Miss Granger, but there aren't many who are. You are the best Seeker at Hogwarts from the entire time I have been there ... though you shall not tell that to any of my Slytherins. I may call you an attention seeking celebrity at Hogwarts, but you are only the latter, through no fault of your own."

"Then why do you call me that?" Harry asked, raising her head off Severus's shoulder to look at him with her deep green eyes.

Severus had never been able to lie with those green eyes seeming to peer into his soul at that close of a range. Not with Lily, and as Harry looked into his eyes, he found he couldn't to her daughter either. He might have been able to if it had been her son, before his temporary transformation, but Severus didn't think he could. "Because I can't bear it."

Harry's eyes seemed to widen, the pools of emerald green drawing him in with unspoken questions. They seemed to ask for more.

"Every time I see you, I see your father, the man who won your mother. I've never really told anyone just how important your mother was to me as I grew up. I don't generally talk to anyone about how I grew up. If anyone deserves to know, you do. However, this goes no further."

"Yes Professor," Harry replied, somehow finding a comfortable position with Severus's arm around him.

"I grew up in this house, the son of a muggle mill worker, Tobias Snape, and a witch, Eileen Snape nee Prince, who was estranged from her family. We were not the richest of families, and I've never quite figured out how father managed to scrape enough together to own this house outright. He was also abusive, more so to my mother than to me, though I was not unscathed.

"I met your mother at a nearby park. She lived on the other side of the park, just a street over. We were nine or ten years old at the time, and Lily had just discovered that she could do magic. This disturbed her sister Petunia. Petunia's reaction to magic nearly drove Lily to tears, but I saw her and recognized what she was doing. I told Lily that she was a witch, and nearly got my head taken off as a result. Do not ever tell a girl who grew up as a muggle that she's a witch.

"We became friends, and she even managed to invite me to her house for dinner on a regular basis. Your Aunt Petunia eventually overcame her initial fear of magic. In fact, I understand that when she turned eleven, the year after Lily, she even wrote the Headmaster begging for a letter. Unfortunately there was not a spark of magic in her, and she grew bitter.

"The Evans House became my safe place, as Father turned more and more to drink. My mother encouraged me to go there, as often as I could, to protect me from father. In a way it was more magical to me than Hogwarts was. And the one person who brought me there was Lily. I so wanted to return the favor.

"When we got our letters, I promised her that I would try to help her like she helped me. We went shopping for our supplies together. We even sat together on the Express. In some ways that first ride on the Hogwarts Express was the best day of my life.

"Then she was sorted into Gryffindor, and I into Slytherin. That didn't end our friendship though. We were the rare friendship between the houses. She stood up for me with Gryffindor, and I for her in Slytherin. Your father and his friends were the bane of our existence, especially after we hit our fourth year, and he started trying to ask Lily out.

"She always said no, and I always treasured that. I promised myself that I would ask her out someday, but I was not a Gryffindor. I did not have a Gryffindor's boundless courage. And one day near the end of our fifth year, I managed in one short rant lose her friendship.

"I called her a mudblood. I never should have. I'd fallen under the sway of Lucius Malfoy and his friends, who were trying to recruit me for the Dark Lord. He made me feel like I belonged in Slytherin, and I didn't realize how much he was changing me. So after I had suffered yet another prank from your father and his friends, I ranted, and ended up, when she tried to make me feel better, calling her an ignorant mudblood.

"I almost got her friendship back that Summer, but she never trusted me again. Then when she started to go out with your father, I gave up. But still..."

Severus went silent as he drew his wand to his free hand, his off wand hand, and silently cast his patronus. A doe appeared and bounded around the room before stopping and lightly touching its nose to Harry's, and disappearing.

"What was that?" Harry asked.

"That was a patronus. It chases away dementors. A full bodied patronus, like my doe, embodies that which we love. In my case, the doe of your mother's animagus form."

"It made me feel kind of warm and ... wanted maybe ... but something more."

"Loved," Severus said. "Never doubt it, Harry. Your mother loved you. Even today her love protects you. My patronus would have never done that if her sacrificial love was not evident within you."

"Really?"

"Really, Harry," Severus said. "Now, put your tears away for now. There will be plenty of time for them at your Uncle's funeral. I have a new book to look at, and I believe you still need to start on your Summer assignments. I shall be holding you to above last year's excellent work on your Potions assignment, given the greater resources available to you this Summer."

* * *

It wasn't until the second dinner that Ginny hadn't attended that Ron noticed that his little sister wasn't at home. It shamed him a bit, that even after everything that happened at Hogwarts, he had still ignored his sister.

Harry had told Ron what happened in the Chamber, that his little sister had been possessed by You-Know-Who. He had felt that he let her down. That he hadn't done the job of a big brother to the one person he could. He had promised her never to ignore her again.

And then she was gone.

"Mum, where's Ginny?" Ron asked, as he helped clear up the dishes, a task that he and Ginny had shared ever since he could remember.

"Your sister is getting help for being possessed," his Mum replied.

"Where?" Ron carefully stacked the twins' dishes. It wasn't beyond them to set a prank to trigger when he stacked them a bit too forcefully.

"I am afraid that I can't tell you that, Ron." Mum wasn't looking at him. She was already starting the charms to wash the many dishes that the Weasleys produced every day.

"Why?"

"Because she's not the only one under the treatment of the mind healer living there."

Ron puzzled over that statement for a moment, as he collected the last of the silverware. There were very few who knew what happened to his sister. There were very few that Ron wanted to know what had happened to his sister. He enumerated them in his mind, subtracting some as he went. It did not take long for him to narrow it down to those who knew and could do something, and less than that to conclude who the other person was.

"She's getting help along with Harry, isn't she?" Ron concluded.

"And what makes you think that Harry needs help," his mum asked with a curious tone.

"Mum, it's about time he gets help. He's my best friend, and I know he needs someone to help him. Just getting him away from those bloody Dursleys alone would be a big help."

"Ronald Weasley, language!" His mother turned to face him. "And what do you mean about the Dursleys."

"Come, on Mum, don't tell me you didn't see how he was when we brought him here last year? Or the bars that we brought along that was keeping him in his locked room with Hedwig. You saw how thin he was. The bloody Dursleys have never fed him right. And the scars on his back? Don't tell me you managed to miss those?"

"I did," his Mum said in an unusually quiet tone.

"And that's before we get to what happened at Hogwarts. Thanks to his mother's protection, Quirrell turned to ash in his hand, being possessed by You-Know-Who. He had nightmares on that at least until last October. Then there was this year, with half of the school, if not more thinking that he was behind the petrifactions, then going to rescue my sister ..." Ron trailed off, somehow not being able to give the energy to say anymore, yet feeling as if he had to go on, to make his mother understand what his best friend had gone through.

Ron found himself somehow on his mother's lap, her arms around him, his head resting against her shoulder. The unexpected thought crossed his mind, when had he gotten tall enough so his head could rest against her shoulder.

His mother's next words were soft, almost pleading. "Ron, what happened this year?"

"You know the thing in the diary left a message when Ginny was taken down to the chamber?" His mother nodded. "I actually read the message, not until after we saved her though. All of us brothers did, before it was removed. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.' If it wasn't for Harry, it would have."

"I thought you went along with Harry."

"Not all the way. I never can go all the way. And I wasn't much help either. Not after bloody Lockhart stole my wand, and then took out the ceiling when his memory charm failed. Harry was on the other side of the rock fall, and had to go alone, just like he had to do last year."

Ron's tone turned accusative. "The Boy-Who-Lived must go on. He must face the Dark Lord alone, and somehow survive. Never mind he hasn't completed the year. Never mind that he's just another student. No my best friend must somehow face the cerberus, the basilisk ... next year it will probably be a dragon or a dementor, or something even worse!"

Ron found that tears had suddenly started to flow down his cheeks. He wasn't sure how they had started. "He faced the basilisk alone, and I wasn't there for him again. It even bit him. If it wasn't for Fawkes, Harry would be dead. And my sister, the sister I never should have ignored, she'd be dead too, if Harry hadn't killed the basilisk, and You-Know-Who again too."

"Do you know what happened in the Chamber?"

"Harry told Hermione, Ginny, and me about it. Of course Ginny saw the basilisk when she woke up, and says that he's underestimating the size. He says she's exaggerating." Ron took a deep breath. "I guess the best place to start is once Harry entered the chamber. He'd already been separated from me and bloody Lockhart.

"He says that all that was in the Chamber at first was Ginny, Tom Riddle's Diary, and the ghost of a teenage Tom Riddle. Ginny wouldn't wake up, and Harry dropped his wand trying to wake her up. Riddle told him that it was too late and soon Ginny would be dead and he would be back. Then he did something with his wand, and ... well, I now know You-Know-Who's real name."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle ... if you rearrange the letters you get 'I am Lord Voldemort.'" Ron could feel his mother's shock as he leaned against her, her protective arms still holding the teen. "Apparently he thinks he's the greatest wizard who ever lived. Harry thinks Dumbledore is, but You-Know-Who thought that he'd been driven out. That's when Fawkes arrived with the sorting hat, and You-Know-Who called in the Basilisk.

"Harry wouldn't say much about the fight, other than the Sword of Gryffindor came out of the Sorting Hat. It apparently hit him on the head." Ron chuckled once, before reasserting his serious tone. "He put the sword into the basilisk's brain through its mouth, and getting a fang into his arm. I saw the scar.

"Fawkes healed him. Then he put the fang though the diary, which he said leaked ink as if it was blood, and Riddle disappeared like the fang had stabbed and destroyed him."

A voice that Ron hadn't heard in years interrupted the silence following. "Did Riddle disappear into a dissipating black cloud?" Ron looked up to discover his oldest brother, fang earring, long hair, and all.

"Yes," Ron replied.

"William Weasley, when did you get in, and why did you not tell me you were coming?"

Ron quickly got off his mother's lap, fully expecting to be thrown off.

"I came home to see what happened to my sister, and maybe offer the family a trip away from it all."

"The family is getting along fine without the need for you to chip in, Bill. Save it for your family some day ... not that I expect you to get one soon. Not with that hair and fang."

Ron had long thought that the fang was cool, and would have preferred just a bit longer hair style than what his mother permitted.

"Yes, Mum," Bill said, quickly dismissing it. "What I want to know is what is being done to care for my sister after she was possessed by a horcrux..."


	8. The Greatest of These

_**Author's Note:**__ Well, just a few days longer than I expected for this one, but I think it's better for the betaing. The usual suspects on CaerAzkaban were very helpful, if a little delayed._

_I'd like to credit AnnF's _Grief, Deceptions, and Hope for Freedom_, for the idea of Patronus Pals which spawned a device used in this chapter._

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
**The Greatest of These

Ginny wore a black dress. It wasn't the mythical little black dress. No this was a long black dress, which she'd paired with a black hat and shoes. She'd forgone the veil, and actually felt its absence. Beside her stood Harry, in his one black dress of mourning. The fire of their hair seemed to be the only color in the room.

"You know, I think the Dursleys are more devout in death than life," Harry whispered as he watched his aunt kneel at the altar rail before the start of the funeral service. Dudley was just standing up, doing the sign of the cross as he did so. He was wearing a black suit with a bow tie. It made him look a bit like a penguin, as the unbuttoned suit jacket showed the white expanse of his hefty form.

"May be," Ginny stated, her arm going around Harry's back as Dudley approached them.

"I'm glad you could make it, Harry," Dudley said, as he shook hands with Harry. "I think Mum is too."

"She hasn't said a word to me yet," Harry replied. "This is my friend Ginny, who is staying with me this Summer."

"Try to keep my cousin in line, Ginny," Dudley said with a somewhat surprising smirk. "If you believe the lies on Privet Drive, he's a seriously disturbed youth."

"Oh, I believe the lie," Ginny shot back, with a smile that she was sure Harry saw.

"Mum wants to know if you'd be willing to join us in the car following the hearse?" Dudley asked. "I think she wants to talk to you."

Ginny looked at Harry. She thought she had been good at figuring out Harry's mood, but since he'd been temporarily transformed into a she, it had become just a bit harder. His hand went up to adjust his hair just a bit around his scar. Ginny pulled him a bit closer with the arm she had around him.

"I'll ask the Professor," Harry replied after a minute's silence. He didn't let the silence continue. "How are you doing?"

"Okay considering, I guess," Dudley replied. "I'm kind of numb at the moment. I don't know what's going to happen. I mean, Dad was always there. I never thought he'd die. I don't really think about a lot of things, but you knew that." He kind of had a sort of half smile at the statement.

"Mum's not really doing anything but crying. She couldn't even start dinner last night. I ended up eating crackers and cheese. I don't think that's going to change tonight, and I don't know how to cook, unlike you."

"Go to my cupboard," Harry said. "There is a shelf between the studs right to the left of the door as you stick your head in. There are a bunch of note cards on it. Look for the one labeled meat pie five. It will take about thirty minutes to make, and you have my number if you run into trouble."

Ginny looked at Harry with amazement. She'd thought that Harry hated Dudley. For a few moments, she puzzled why he would offer to help someone that he hated. Then a memory of what Hermione had said when she asked her why Harry saved her.

"Harry has a people saving thing," Hermione had said. "It doesn't matter what the risk is to him. If he thinks he can save you, he'll try. I think we both can be grateful that he has it, not that he'll ever admit it. In fact, he'll probably downplay saving you from the Basilisk and the Dark Lord.

Hermione had been right. Actually, it wasn't often that Hermione wasn't right about something. So Ginny smiled a bit at Harry's offer.

"I'll try ... or order pizza," Dudley said. "Probably order pizza, actually."

"No, you need something good to eat, especially after a day like today," Harry said. "Make the meat pie. Heat up the greens. Tomorrow morning, there is that instant porridge. Heat it on the stove medium heat, no matter what the instructions on the side of the box say. The stove is a bit hotter than it should be. Oven's fifty degrees over what the dial says, too. My cards have match the display. You've got enough food in the house that Aunt Petunia shouldn't have to shop for another week or so."

Dudley nodded. Then after another awkward silence, he said, "Harry, I don't know why you're even willing to talk to me, after the way I treated you. I was a bully. I led a group of bullies after you. Mum was cruel to you. She even once swung a pan at you. True, you were on the other side of the room, but still. My father beat you, and I did nothing. I'm not even certain why you bothered to come to my father's funeral. I wouldn't have. But you're here.

"All I can say, Harry, is I'm sorry, and I'm glad you came."

Dudley suddenly broke out into tears, looking down at the floor. His shoulders were slumped. His hands were grasping at each other, nervously moving between poses as if Dudley couldn't decide. His whole body seemed to convey the message that he was lower than he'd ever considered. "I don't deserve it."

Then suddenly, Harry was no longer beside Ginny. Instead, Harry was embracing his cousin, his at first tentative hug seeming to pull the heavy set, crying, blonde boy upwards. "Maybe you will," Ginny heard Harry whisper into his cousin's ear. Then after a couple minutes, letting Dudley cry, Harry pulled away.

"I don't get you, Harry," Dudley said.

"No one gets me," Harry said, sadly. "Kind of a shame that. Someday, maybe, everything will be right. See you Dudley."

Harry found them seats in the second row of the pews, and pulled out a book in the shelf behind the seat in front of them, as Dudley move away to talk to his friends. He turned through several pages until he came to a stop, and then almost breathlessly, almost inaudibly, he began to read. Ginny was sure that his finger on the text was only to make sure he hadn't forgotten it.

"Love is patient, love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."

Harry looked up at the altar, ignoring the casket before it, a tear coming down his face, unbidden and unrestrained. "Someday," Ginny heard him say. "Someday."

* * *

Petunia Dursley forced herself to look at the young lady sharing the seat with her in the limo following the hearse carrying her husband. The red hair and green eyes, they were her sister's. If only she'd been able to see them instead of the accursed black hair and face of her brother-in-law the morning that he'd been left on her doorstep. No, if only she had treated Harry Potter the way that her sister had wished, the way that she would have wished her only Dudley would be treated if the fates had been reversed.

Here in this place, after the loss she'd suffered, Petunia allowed herself no excuses. All the never can happens were gone. All the it will be that ways were never mores. Here there was only what was, and what should be. Here she had a moment, a short one at that, to for once say what should have said, to be, if only for moment allowed, the aunt she should have been. All the losses would be back. Her husband was dead. Her sister was dead. This was not the way things should be.

"Harry, I'm sorry," Petunia began, trying to keep her eyes focused on the niece Harry was for the moment. "I let my hurt and my beliefs turn your life into a life not worth living. I let Vernon do what I knew was wrong. I was not there for you when I should have been. I turned what should have been joy into punishment. I turned what should have been laughter into tears.

"I could not bear to let magic pull another away. I could not let another into my heart, though I should have. I saw the magic you had, and I wished you hadn't. I could not let you into the joy your mother felt, so I turned it all into a reason for your punishment. Punishment built on punishment, but somehow, you survived it all. Inside I was glad, though I could not admit it.

"I couldn't admit that I was wrong. I could not let the magic within you turn to the joy it should have been. Every little accidental release should have not been a reason to hate, but it was. I could not stand that the gift I was not given, had been given for me to witness again, see magic again. Perhaps even, to share what had once been offered, again.

"I should have been your second mother, the one you went to when you were in tears. Lesser than my sister was, perhaps, but not unimportant. Maybe I can try, still, in the short times that you have left between terms. Maybe it's all too late. Maybe what I say here doesn't make a difference at all.

"But I have to say it. I have to try. Even if all I can love is gone."

Petunia went silent, as Harry's green eyes met hers. It wasn't the defiant glare that she'd often got when she had wronged him, had mistreated him and punished him without cause. It wasn't a trusting one, unheeding of the past. It was one of caution, of awaiting action to match word. She had no actions for her word. There was nothing she could do, not in this car.

Into the silence of the car, at just a whisper, Harry began to repeat a bible verse that Petunia had heard at her own wedding, with a feeling and meaning that she had not heard before.

"Love is patient, love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends."

The was silence again after the verse. Tears were already finding their courses down both their faces. They were not new courses, as tears found the course that they had fallen though the years. There should have been ravines for the salty waters to follow, down their cheeks. But there weren't. There were only tears glistening in low afternoon light through the lightly tinted windows in the rear of the car.

Then the words, soft and plaintive, were said, a question that had to be answered. "Aunt Petunia, can you love me?"

Petunia reached over, pulling her nephew turned niece as far into her arms as the seat belts would allow. Their was only one answer she could give. "Yes, I do."

When minutes later the car came to a stop in the graveyard, Petunia was sure that everyone thought that the young lady with her felt the loss of her uncle keenly. Petunia knew better. It was not the tears of loss that tracked down their cheeks. It was the tears of forgiveness, the tears of hope, and tears of the promise she'd made.

* * *

It was half past seven, and Severus Snape was not expecting his phone to ring. It rarely rang, actually. Sometimes he wondered why he kept the service.

"Professor Severus Snape residence," he announced as he picked up the phone. Harry and Ginny were not going to answer. Ginny had already taken her sleeping drought, and Harry was in the midst of taking a bath.

"Professor Snape?" There was only one young girl's voice that could mix surprise and respect in just two words. It appeared that someone was giving his home phone number to Gryffindors.

"Miss Granger, may I ask what brings you to call me away from Hogwarts," Severus said, in a tone that he usually reserved for questioning those found violating curfew.

"Dudley Dursley gave me the number when I called the Dursley's to check up on Harry. I'm not letting him isolate himself half the summer again. Is he there, or was Dudley lying and I need to pay a call on Privet Drive?"

"Indeed, young Mister Dursley was correct," Severus said. "Harriet is indeed residing here for the summer. Unfortunately she is currently washing up for bed." As he said that, he heard the tub start to drain. "She should be out in a few minutes, however, judging by the sound."

"Professor, did you say Harriet?" Granger said with an uncharacteristic puzzlement in her voice.

"This summer, Harry is Harriet," Severus stated. "No one is looking for the Girl-Who-Lived. Now, Miss Granger, I have a question for you. Where did you find the reference about the use of thistle to stabilize partially made Doxycide?"

"I found it in the third edition of Libatius Borage's Advanced Potion Making," Granger replied. "I found it strange that it was missing from both the second and fourth edition, though the third edition is sixty-one printed pages longer than the second and fifty-three shorter than the fourth."

"I don't believe I have that version," Severus mused. He was sure that he had used the second edition when he had taken the class, and he was teaching from the fourth for his NEWT classes. "Tell me, Miss Granger, do you often use NEWT text books for your essays?"

"I use any text book I can get my hands on that is in the Hogwarts Library," Granger replied. "I especially find Moste Potente Potions to be helpful, even in the expunged edition."

"I suspect that you have had the full edition in your possession this past year," Severus said. "Tell me, Miss Granger, do you find brewing potions fascinating or rote work?"

"Fascinating," Granger replied, as Severus heard the door to the bathroom squeal as it opened.

"Hold for a moment," Severus said, before placing his hand over the handset and calling upstairs. "Harry, Miss Granger is on the phone for you!"

"Coming Professor," Harry said.

"Harry is on his way down, Miss Granger," Severus continued. "I shall have to see about challenging you more in class."

He heard Granger's sudden intake of breath. He so enjoyed challenging his students, if they were not a bunch of dunderheads. Privately, and not that widely, he'd admitted that neither Granger or his house guests were dunderheads.

Severus looked up as Harry's footsteps reached the top of the stairs. The Gryffindor was wearing the plain white night shirt that Ginny had given him, not the newer pair of pajamas that had been purchased for him the day before. It was obvious from the way he pounded down the stairs that he had been born a boy. No girl, save perhaps a tomboy, would swing herself around the post on the landing with a single hand.

"Here he is."

Severus handed over the phone and retreated to the parlor. He picked up a book, and pretended to read it, while he listened to one side of the conversation.

"I told Dudley that it wasn't that hard to cook it."

"Yeah, I know, not my fault. That's why I'm at Snape's"

"No, I haven't started my homework."

"It's been just a bit busy. Uncle Vernon died of a heart attack, and I've got to go see Doctor Chalice every day."

"I'm fine Hermione – Okay I will be fine."

"Hermione. Hermione. That's why they brought me here."

"I think it's a daily appointment, almost. I go again tomorrow. Doctor Chalice is nice."

"No, I don't want to talk about being a girl."

"Living with him is okay, so far. He's letting me make my own breakfast."

"Better that Hogwarts. Three good cooks in the house."

"I don't know if the Professor ... that's what he's asked us to call him this summer ... anyway, I don't know if the Professor will let anyone visit, especially Gryffindors."

"I think I'd miss not going to the Burrow again this summer. Ron's place is neat. You've got to go there sometime."

"I know, Devon is a bit far from Crawley, and Cokeworth too. Maybe there is some sort of magical transportation you can take."

"Do what you always do, Hermione, look it up!"

"Okay, but the same goes for you. We're always the best when we're all together. Don't stay up too late reading."

"Good Night, Hermione."

Harry put the receiver down, and Severus returned to the front hall. "Ready for bed?"

"Almost, Professor," Harry replied. "Ginny told me that I needed to brush out this flaming mop of mine, first."

"Wise advice," Severus said, not entirely sure that it was, having never had as long of hair as Harry now possessed. "Go ahead and do that. I have something for you before you go to sleep. I should be up there in a few minutes."

* * *

Harry Potter looked over at the crystal that Professor Snape had put on her bedside table. It had been a simple crystal cylinder before the Professor had cast his patronus on it. Now the glowing crystal was a crystalline doe, no more than six inches high. It cast a warm glow to the otherwise darkened with night room.

Somehow it also made her feel warm inside. It wasn't a heat warmth, though. Harry wasn't quite sure what it was. It felt good though. It felt a lot like someone was holding her, hugging her.

She needed a hug. Especially after today. Aunt Marge had brought Ripper to Uncle Vernon's funeral. Harry had hoped that her transformation into a girl would make her immune to Ripper's attentions. She had no such luck. The bulldog had gone right for her ankles. Her brand new black socks, one of the few things that she knew she'd be able to use once she was back as a boy, had been ripped.

Not only that, but the dog had scared her so much, much more than it had ever done before. Harry had ended up on top of an end table before Ripper was removed from the funeral home.

Then there had been her cover and Aunt Marge's reaction to it. Ginny and Harry had been there as Petunia's nieces, a cover that the Professor had apparently informed Petunia and Dudley ahead of time. That relationship had been enough for Aunt Marge to bring up her real identity.

It hurt to hear Aunt Marge talk about his parents, calling them unemployed drunkards who got themselves killed. That was when someone spoke up, someone who apparently knew his parents. It was the first time Harry had ever heard her parents defended. Not hero worshiped, not mentioned as an aside to her being the boy-who-lived, but defended, even praised. She would remember forever the words of John Dawlish.

"I don't think you realize exactly who you have just degraded. If you had, you would have never insulted two heroes of Her Majesty's Police — two members who gave their lives in service, in fact. James Potter, I swear the man was fearless. He once stared down an armed man who had already hit a half dozen men, walked right up to him and disarmed him personally. And as for Lily, she saved my life, twice from one of the most deadly criminals.

"I suggest that the next time you see Harry Potter, you apologize personally. His parents gave their lives to protect this country from criminals. His mother killed the crime lord who had already killed her husband at the cost of her own life. Her — their sacrifices are worthy of the highest honor that any member of law enforcement can obtain. You would be wise — everyone would be wise — to remember that."

Harry yawned. She adjusted her night shirt a bit. It had gotten just a bit twisted. Turning on her side, she took one last look at the glowing crystalline doe, before closing her eyes. Her arms found the stuffed dragon that Ginny had insisted that she get, telling her that hugging a stuffed animal always made her sleep better. Ginny had a stuffed Kangaroo. The dragon's horns rested on her chin, and the wings pressed against her breasts.

Harry could still feel the warmth from the patronus, and as she slipped towards sleep, she tried to classify that warmth, that feeling that filled her. It was something she knew she should know. It was something that she wanted, but the word describing the feeling was not coming to her.

The warmth felt right to her. The warmth held her tight and gave her a feeling of protection. With the warmth of the patronus, filled with the Patronus created by the Professor, in the image of his mother's form, drowsiness overtook her. Only as she yawned again and slipped into the arms of sleep did what the Professor had called it return to her mind.

For the first time in over a decade, Harry Potter slept in a room filled with love.


	9. Rainy Days and Mondays

_**Author's Note:**__ This chapter wasn't easy to write, even though I knew I was going to have to write it when I started this story. It's probably also the last time I ever will write its like. Of course, this summer isn't just changing Harry and Ginny, by giving them the treatment they need. You may notice in this chapter just how much the right word getting to the right person can change things._

_I'd like to thank Jim Trig for his help with this chapter. _

* * *

**Chapter Eight** Rainy Days and Mondays

It was a rainy Monday morning, so Ginny Weasley felt perfectly okay having slept in a bit. If she'd been at home, she wouldn't have been able to. Her mother didn't believe in letting her daughter sleep in unless she was sick. So Ginny was enjoying not just the ability to sleep in, but the admonishment to do so. And mornings like this one were perfect for it, with the rain hitting her bedroom window.

Ginny snuggled up with her stuffed kangaroo under a warm, but not too warm, blanket. It was so nice just to lay in bed, letting her mind drift, dozing in and out of mid-morning dreams. Spinner's End was for once rather quiet, though some beeping from the warehouse behind the houses had briefly interrupted her dreams this morning. Another interruption, unintended, she was sure, suddenly came from the room next door with a low moan, accompanied by the sound of bedsprings being sat on suddenly.

The sound was enough for Ginny to get up and tip toe through the open doorways. Ginny Weasley had heard the particular note of moaning before. She didn't expect to hear it from the boy next door. Not that Harry really was the boy next door any more. She peeked through the door. Harry was sitting on the bed, with his head between his legs. "Not feeling good, Harry?"

"That would be an understatement," Harry said, sitting up. "I mean, I felt a little bad last night, but this morning ... I feel so bloated, faint, and after what you said last night, I'm a bit afraid to look down there."

With the way Harry's night shirt crossed his legs, Ginny didn't have to lift any thing. "Hot shower, fresh panties, and pad," she ordered. "I'll get the hot water bottle, and we'll play chess until you feel better."

"Okay," Harry said, wobbling a bit as she stood. "Maybe it will make me feel less of a mess."

"Oh it will, Harry," Ginny said. "And I'm sure that you know exactly who to blame for your current condition."

Every step that Harry made towards the bathroom and her hot shower was punctuated by a syllable of the man she blamed. "Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore."

Ginny hoped that the Headmaster didn't stop by any time in the next three or four days. The resulting 'accidental' magic could be fatal, and if it wasn't, it would definitely be creative. Ginny put out fresh, comfortable clothes for Harry, and retrieved a bunch of extra pillows from the linen closet.

With the soft summer rain predicted to last all day, it was time to relax and enjoy indoors for a while. Ginny planned to finish more of that Shakespeare book that had been left in her room, and perhaps try her hand at baking a few biscuits. She was sure that they'd be appreciated, as long as she didn't burn them.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape was used to Harry Potter waking up before him. Ever since Harry and Ginny had moved in, it had been a constant. Since their arrival, Harry had been there, bright eyed, standing at the stove. Severus had insisted that Harry could sleep in, but thus far he had not, until today at least.

Severus was sitting at the kitchen table, taking in that nectar of the gods known as coffee. The Daily Prophet was open to the Sports page. It appeared that one of his Slytherins from a couple years back was the new starting seeker for the Arrows. He had told Flint that Letty Bracegirdle was much better than Higgs, but Flint didn't want the girl on the team. Though Severus had to admit that Higgs hadn't been that bad, even if he'd lost the snitch to Potter. Of course, Higgs was currently Bracegirdle's backup on the Arrows, and that said everything about Flint's choices.

There was a good chance that Flint wouldn't get the captain's badge this year ... if he could find someone else to replace him. Really, the idea that Draco had anywhere near the raw talent of Harry, it was laughable, actually. Draco wasn't a seeker, he was a stalker.

"Excuse me, Professor," Ginny Weasley interrupted his musing.

"Yes, Ginny?" Severus said. The girl had been getting better sleep, lately, but she wasn't a morning person. He looked at the clock. Nine-thirty?

"Where did you put the hot water bottle?" Ginny asked.

"On the right hand side, first shelf, in the cabinet above the toilet," Severus replied, a bit puzzled why she'd be asking again, a week after the last time.

Ginny replied quickly, "Thanks. I think Harry's going to need it today. Oh, I think Harry's going to need to talk to Mum."

Severus nodded. He swiftly decided that he needed to get some woman that Harry might trust, because there was no way he was going to be talking to a young girl about that, again. And if he ended up doing it, he was going to strangle the Headmaster. That wasn't an option. Unfortunately, neither was Molly Weasley, at the moment. Not with Draco due to come over this afternoon — he hoped that Draco would survive the visit, as it seemed that fresh oil had been added to the frying pan.

Severus mentally went through the possibilities. Petunia was out, even with the recent reconciliation. He needed someone that Harry knew and trusted. There really was only one choice, Severus figured, with a pair of Gryffindors under his roof. Hopefully she would be at home, not Hogwarts, as Spinner's End wasn't on the floo.

Severus put down the paper. He didn't think he could put this off. He headed over to the phone in the entry way, sitting down in the newly placed chair, before dialing a number that had become quite familiar. It took several rings before she answered, but it always did.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Deputy Headmistress speaking," Minerva McGonagall answered.

"You know, Minerva, you've got to get away from the school more," Severus said. "Either that, or you and Flitwick are going to have to find a way to connect the phone to Hogwarts."

"If the Governors approved, it would be installed tomorrow, all the way down to your office," Minerva replied. "And you know I only put in the line in my house to talk to the new muggleborn parents, after you complained about everyone giving out your number. What brings you to call me this summer?"

"Has the Headmaster informed you of his mad plan for taking care of Potter this summer?" Severus asked. "And perhaps the not quite as audacious plan for Miss Weasley?"

"Aside from the fact that Miss Weasley is getting treatment from a mind healer at Hogwarts' expense, no."

"Apparently the best there is lives here on Spinner's End," Severus said, leaning back in the chair. "I am hosting both Harry and Ginny this summer while Doctor Chalice works with them both. Of course, therein lies the problem."

"I imagine it does," Minerva replied dryly.

"Probably not in the way that you think," Severus said, already imagining his colleague's reaction to what he was about to reveal. There was no way the stern Deputy Headmistress was not going to react badly to Dumbledore's little potion. "In order to hide Harry, Dumbledore commissioned a suppression potion. You might remember when a short term version was used on Mister Black when he stood up Marianne Montague?"

"You mean you are hosting Miss Harry Potter, who I suppose is the spitting image of his mother at the moment?" Minerva said in a surprisingly jovial tone.

"Yes," Severus said dryly.

"Oh Severus, I take it that your regrets and treatment of Harry have come home to roost then?"

"In spades. However, I need you for one of the side effects. It seems that Harry is suffering from that time of the month, and I do not have a prefect to pass the comforting off onto, this time."

"I shall be there."

* * *

Today was a day that Harry couldn't refer to herself as himself. Not with what Ginny had called the curse. The reminder of being a girl at the moment was too great. As if the breasts and longer red hair didn't do that enough. The hair wasn't that bad, but the other red stuff leaking from somewhere that Harry wasn't supposed to have was too much.

Harry found herself sitting up against an impressive pile of pillows at the end of her bed, with a hot water bottle carefully positioned on her lower body. The rain was tapping against her window, and she was quite tempted to slide back under the covers and go to sleep. Sleeping through most of her first period sounded like a very good idea. Unfortunately, Hermione had been bugging her about her homework. So she was taking notes on a clip board as she read back through her transfiguration book. There were several slips of paper marking certain passages that she was sure she'd need in her essay on practical uses of transfiguration in daily life.

If she'd still been on Privet Drive, she would have been really tempted to use a few spells. Being on Spinner's End, however, that was not a temptation ... most of the time. Those whistling, groping boys who congregated at the end of the block were tempting her.

Harry reached over for the glass of hot chocolate that she'd placed just in reach. Ginny had said that days like today were something she enjoyed, after she'd handled the discomfort. Her mother always provided her with plenty of hot chocolate and biscuits. She called it a sick day. Harry had always had to work through any sickness she had, at least until she got to Hogwarts. Once she'd been told that she had to go to the Hospital Wing when she felt sick, she found being sick was a lot better. In the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, you didn't get hot chocolate and fresh biscuits, though. Ginny's biscuits were good.

Harry took another sip and put back the cup. She'd moved to the bottom of the bed because the light was better, and she could hear the beat of the rain drops. It was a pleasant backdrop to her studying. Harry had never really enjoyed music while studying. The tapping of the rain, the rumble of distant thunder, that she felt was the perfect background.

She'd spent the first half of the morning playing chess with Ginny, who apparently was actually a better player than Ron. Unfortunately, Harry wasn't even in Ron's league, really. So eventually they'd split. Ginny was now in her own room reading Shakespearean tragedies.

Harry had gone down to ask the Professor for any Transfiguration books he might have to help work on the essay. The Professor had pulled out a few, including a copy of his own second year Transfiguration text, which had some side notes from Harry's mother. She was going to be reading through that one, very carefully.

There was a knock on her open door, and Harry looked up to discover that her head of house had apparently come to visit. Though she had never seen Professor McGonagall dressed quite the same. She still had her hair in a bun, but instead of the rather formal outfits that Harry was used to seeing her Head of House wearing, she was wearing a black sweatshirt with the word "Blackpool" printed in gold on the front.

"Professor McGonagall, I didn't expect to see you until I was back at Hogwarts," Harry said.

"I imagine that you'll see many of us from Hogwarts this summer," McGonagall said, taking a seat at the other end of the bed. "Though I suspect most of us will not realize who you are, given your changes."

"Oh yes," Harry said darkly. "The Headmaster has a lot to answer for."

"He certainly does, and I'm afraid not just for your current monthly curse," McGonagall said.

"You mean that since I'm taking the boosters every six days until the end of August, I'm going to have to experience this again?" Harry growled. "Dumbledore is dead."

"I shall take suitable revenge on your behalf," McGonagall said. "I'm afraid that Albus has forgotten how well a Lioness protects her cubs ... and the fact that neither your father's friends nor the Weasley twins have bested my efforts."

Harry didn't know what to respond to first. She was going to stand up for her. She had been a prankster like the Weasley twins, and apparently Harry's father. She had known Harry's father. It hadn't occurred to Harry that the teachers might have taught her parents.

"My father was a prankster?" Harry asked, putting her current book aside.

"Oh most certainly," McGonagall smiled, conjuring a pillow so she could lean up against the head board. "James Potter, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and Sirius Black were the pranksters of their generation in Gryffindor, though I would have to say that Severus was a worthy rival in the business, all his own, in Slytherin."

"Professor Snape played pranks?" Harry replied incredulously.

"Yes, and I prefer him to take points over pranking," McGonagall replied. "And just because he's a professor, does not mean he is beyond pranks. He's just narrowed his targets and teaching has reduced his opportunities. He usually prefers potion based pranks, though he's no slouch when it comes to transfiguration. I see you're working on your transfiguration summer assignment. Do you have any questions."

"Just collecting all the information on it at the moment, Professor," Harry said. "I intend to make an outstanding on it." Then he took a deep breath, and marshaled his courage. Professor Snape had obviously arranged for her to come so he'd have a trusted woman to ask questions about his now female body. "Actually, Professor McGonagall, I've got a few questions, but not about Transfiguration."

"Girl questions?" McGonagall asked.

Harry nodded, her face seeming to burn with embarrassment. She was sure that it was as red as her new longer hair

"Ask."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had a terrific headache. Troubles at Hogwarts were supposed to go down during the summer. Of course, there was the usual fun of finding yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. At least, for once, he could say that the students who had left Hogwarts a few weeks ago were well taken care of. Harry and Ginny were getting care, and with the help of Filius, he was sure that the other abused students like Harry were not in the same situation anymore.

At the moment he was going through the points and detention log, something that he often thought he should do more during the year. He was usually to busy to give it more than a cursory scan. Now, after discovering some disturbing trends when going through the list of possible abused students that Madam Pomfrey had produced for him, he was going though it student by student, professor by professor. There were going to be some changes next year, he promised himself. At the very least, someone was going to be doing what he was doing now at least monthly, if not weekly, even if he had to hire someone just to do it.

There was a knock on his door. "Come in," Albus said. The door opened to reveal the eldest Weasley boy, a former Head Boy. It was not often that such visited, but Bill Weasley was not yet ten years out of Hogwarts, and as such was on a short list that Dumbledore went to for feedback. "Mister Weasley, what brings you to Hogwarts." He indicated that Bill should take a seat before his desk.

"My sister and the horcrux that possessed her," Bill said, taking a seat. "You've got a real problem, Headmaster."

"Where did you hear about horcruxes?" Dumbledore asked, troubled that Bill would even know about the subject.

"I'm a curse breaker in Egypt, now, sir. They're practically littered on the ground when you go tomb raiding there," Bill said, seriously. "I didn't think I'd hear about one in England, but if there was anyone who would try that, it would be You-Know-Who. When Ron told me what Harry told him about his rescue of my little sister, I got really worried that it might not be the only one. I was right."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore said. He would have preferred if the knowledge of horcruxes had passed from the earth, but he supposed that some professions like curse breakers would have to at least know how to destroy them.

"I told my boss at Gringotts that You-Know-Who had made at least one horcrux," Bill said. "Gringotts doesn't allow such things to be stored in their vaults, so he ordered a search of all incarcerated Death Eaters vaults and those of their families. This morning they found one in Bellatrix LeStrange's vault. It's been destroyed, but my boss says that there are more out there, possibly as many as five, but at least two."

"I see," Dumbledore said. "I wished those accursed containers had not washed upon England's shores, but it seems that evil lurks once again in England."

Bill nodded. "Sir, might You-Know-Who have left one at Hogwarts? It's always been said that Hogwarts is the only place near as safe as Gringotts. Dark Lords like to put them in safe places that they know of. Any Hogwarts alumni would consider it safe, and if what Ron said was true, You-Know-Who was a predecessor of mine as Head Boy."

"Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle, Slytherin, from 1944-1945. Never in my time at Hogwarts have I seen a student go so wrong, and I have seen quite a few students pass through these halls."

"I'm sure you have, sir. Is it true that he has cursed the Defense Against the Dark Arts post?"

"I am almost certain of it. I have not kept a single professor in that post since the day that he interviewed to replace Professor Merrythought."

"Gringotts has assigned me to track down any more of You-Know-Who's horcruxes," Bill said. "Maybe while I look to see if he left any behind at Hogwarts, with your permission, I can see what signs there are of the Defense curse."

Dumbledore considered it for a moment. He really didn't like when students were exposed to dark magic, and as a Professor, he still saw most of his former students as they were when he first encountered them, waiting to be sorted. He looked up at Bill, noticing his fang earring and long hair, remembering once when he'd considered the same. The boy had grown up, perhaps not as much as some, but Dumbledore could not do everything, and William Weasley was a good boy, trained in just what was needed. "Agreed."


	10. Singing in the Rain

_**Author's Note:**__ The light at the end of the tunnel for this story has been spotted. I finally have a plan through to the end of the story. It's only been two years. I'd like to thank the following for their feedback on this chapter: Matt Arnold, SlickRCBD, Edmond Bertrand, and the irreplaceble Jim Trigg._

* * *

**Chapter Nine:** Singing in the Rain

Ginny Weasley had a whole afternoon scheduled with Doctor Chalice. Now that she could properly occlude her mind, the Doctor was going to carefully guide her through looking for any sign of Voldemort's presence in her mind. The Doctor didn't think there would be, but Ginny wasn't so sure.

She'd been told to wear her most comfortable outfit, so there were no distractions. The loose dress, with no bra worn under it, barely registered to her mind, as she laid on the chaise longue. In fact, it lent a feeling of floating in the clouds as the notes of Fingal's Cave floated into her ears.

"Listen to the music and relax, Ginny," Doctor Chalice said. "Let yourself go. Float. Good. Now, I'm coming in. Keep yourself calm. Everything is going to be all right."

Twice this day, Ginny had tensed up, throwing the Doctor out of her mind. Previous attempts had failed even worse, as her mind had reacted to the Doctor's violently. This time, however, she managed not to flinch, and felt the warmth of the Doctor's mind sliding in beside her.

"Come, let us go deeper," the Doctor's voice said, seaming to come from everywhere but nowhere on the notes of the Mendelssohn master work.

Ginny felt everything get thicker, as she descended deeper into her mind, searching for anything that Tom Riddle might have left behind in her mind. She felt a warmth in her right hand, the same one she felt every time she cast fire spells. She knew she was ready for him. This time her mind was hers, and there would be nothing left of Tom Riddle if she came upon him.

In her mind Ginny was determined to call him by name. He was not You-Know-Who. He was not the anagram he'd lived under. He was Tom Riddle. He had been prefect and Head Boy. She'd looked him up before she left, in hopes that if she knew him, she might be able to push him out. He was the son of a purebred pureblood, Merope Gaunt, and muggle gentry, named for his father and grandfather.

She smelled the sea air, heard the waves, and rode the breeze accompanying her as she went deeper, feeling the corridors of her mind in all their smooth stone glory. Every turn was examined, looking for the stains on her mind. Here and there they came across traces, and together, Ginny and the Doctor washed them away with the gentle waves suggested by the music echoing through her mind.

In her mind, Ginny bore the sword that Harry had killed the basilisk with, and she wanted to cleave Riddle with it. So she stalked through her mind, the Doctor at her side, hoping that Riddle was just around the corner.

* * *

Harry really wished she hadn't left her bedroom. But after McGonagall had left, she'd gotten up, and period still staining her, gone down to get some more tea. That's when she heard a voice that she despised at Hogwarts more than any student.

"I just don't see why it works, Uncle Severus," Draco's voice came from the Professor's study as Harry walked by. She so hoped he wouldn't leave the study until she'd finished making tea. She'd been warned that Draco was coming by, and to remember her cover name, but his voice was still unexpected and definitely unwelcome by her.

Harry filled the kettle with water and then put it on the stove. She rummaged through the tea boxes until she found a bag of Earl Grey. It took way too long for the kettle to heat up. She spent the time contemplating what her Head of House had told her about her parents. It had been nice to hear about her parents; if only it hadn't started with a discussion of her current condition.

"What is a beautiful girl like you doing living with Uncle Severus," Malfoy's voice interrupted her musing. Harry turned in, finding herself face to face with her Slytherin rival, not that he knew who she was. His voice was slimy and slithery, just like the reputation of his house's animals. "I am Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." His hand was already resting on Harry's right hip, trying to pull her closer.

"Malfoy, if you don't take your hand off my hip, you'll never be able to raise a glass with it again."

"What shall I call such a radiant beauty as yourself?" Draco said, as the kettle began to whistle and he removed his hand, raising it up to where Harry could see it.

"I am Harikleia Prince, my friends call me Harry," Harry said taking the kettle off the eye. She wondered how Draco would react if he knew that she was actually a he, even if she couldn't tell or show him the truth. In any case, she really wished he'd leave. "You shall not call me anything, for I do not wish to be bothered with your presence."

"Mister Malfoy, do not dawdle," Professor Snape said from the door to the basement. "You came here for a potions tutorial, not to hit on either of my nieces. Neither of which I expect want your barely teenage attempts at flirting. Harikleia, I have re-heated the water bottle, and delay dinner by forty-five minutes."

Harry kept her glare on Draco until the door to the basement closed behind him. Then she headed back up to her room, fresh cup of tea in her hand.

As she reached the foot of the steps, the front door opened to reveal a soaking wet Ginny, who despite the fact that it was pouring rain, and that her dress was completely soaked through, seemed to be in a great mood, if Harry was any judge of her singing.

"... I have a smile on my face  
I'll walk down the lane  
With a happy refrain  
Just singin', singin' in the rain."

"You are in way too good of a mood," Harry said firmly as Ginny put her still tied closed umbrella in the stand.

"Doctor Chalice just finished looking for Riddle remnants and said there are only memories left behind," Ginny said with the biggest smile on her face that Harry had ever seen.

"Okay, that's a reason to be happy," Harry replied. "Just don't expect me to share your joy. Malfoy's here. And he's apparently discovered his hormones."

"Oh bloody hell," Ginny replied, her smile gone in a moment. "I'm going upstairs, changing out of these wet clothes, and not coming back down."

"It's your turn to cook dinner, though," Harry said as both of them began to go up stairs. "It might be a bit hard to make dinner from your bedroom."

"Let's do it together," Ginny suggested, as they reached the top of the stairs. "Safety in numbers, that way."

"Do we need to bake more bread?" Harry asked.

"I think so, especially if he stays for dinner," Ginny said, beginning to take off her dress as she walked down the hall. "I'm going to take a hot shower, change into my jeans, and then we can start."

"Take your time," Harry said. "The Professor asked for dinner to be delayed by forty-five minutes, and I need my tea."

.

* * *

Professor Severus Snape loved his basement potions lab. He'd put a lot of work into it. It was much better than even the one at Hogwarts. Mostly, that was because he had access to a lot better installation equipment. He really wished he could replace the student tables at Hogwarts with the same concrete style ones as he'd installed the third summer after he started teaching. The less said about his gripes with the ventilation at Hogwarts, the better.

Since he quite often had one of his Slytherins visit for some summer tutorials, something he insisted on for several dunderheads who had the fortune to be sorted into his house, there were two tables always set up for his students. At the moment, Draco Malfoy sat at one of them slicing some pears, an ingredient for a particularly tricky bruise clearing potion, known as the hickey potion to most of the school. Applied topically, it would vanish most bruises in about ten minutes.

Severus was considering adding it to the third year syllabus. It wasn't very risky to create, nor was there much of a chance to turn it into a poison. The success rate, however, didn't appear to be very good, mainly due to lax ingredient preparation. It was a problem that he was sure that Draco had. Harry didn't, and until Harry had moved in, he'd been a bit puzzled by that. Most boys had issues with properly preparing.

"Draco, you are not back slicing, you are chopping," Severus said. "There should be no vertical motion what so ever. Put what you've done aside for the moment and start over."

"What's the difference anyway?" Draco said. "They look the same way."

"Looks can be deceiving," Severus said. "As a Slytherin, you should know that. Now, put the tip of the knife against the table and pull backwards, don't press down at all."

Draco tried, but Severus didn't think he quite got the process. Still, there were only so many pears for him to try with.

"We'll move on, but you need to work on that," Severus said.

"I'm doing the best I can," Draco said.

"Hardly," Severus replied. "Both of my nieces can do better, and one of them is a year behind you. You will work on your cutting this summer. As it stands, Potter has a better chance of getting an O on this potion than you do. Now, mince finely the tongues of frogs. Use the iron knife."

"Yes Professor," Draco replied, pulling out his knife.

"I said iron knife, not silver," Severus said. "Unless you're planning on using it for a werewolf, or a dementor ... and if you're planning on kissing a dementor, I do not want to know about it. And I said mince, not cube."

Severus decided that he really needed to find some way to teach proper use of knives in class, preferably without risking dangerous horseplay.

For the next hour, he worked with Draco on the potion. The results were not promising. It was ingredient preparation, he judged. Of course, he'd have to test the potion to see exactly how bad that error was.

No, there was no chance of any such bruises being around to test, not after Draco had been so throughly shut down. Severus barely suppressed the feeling of amusement from showing as he thought about what Draco's reaction would be to the fact he had attempted to hit on a boy, unknowingly.

The door to the lab opened, revealing Harry Potter standing in the doorway. The boy turned girl was wearing an apron, and had a ladle in her hand. "Professor Snape, dinner will be ready in a couple more minutes," Harry said. "Should we delay it further?"

"No, Draco and I will be up there shortly," Severus said. "Draco, wash your hands."

* * *

As a just finished Second Year Slytherin, Draco really didn't know much about girls. Until very recently, they had been gross, something that boys his age weren't supposed to like. The feelings had been mutual, though. When he'd started Hogwarts, he'd heard the girls in his class call boys gross. In some cases they still did, but that had also started to change.

The girls were giggling more. They were looking at the Quidditch players ... not Draco though, even though he was the Seeker for Slytherin. The way they crushed on Lockhart had been disgusting. He'd been a fraud, but he had every girl, even that bookworm Granger, eating from the palm of his hand. It wasn't right.

Over the last year he'd overheard a bit. He'd been foolish enough to ask what a period was, after Pansy had told him not to bother her because of it. He hadn't got an answer, really, other than the fact that you really didn't want to bother a girl who was on hers. Slytherin had been a mine field until he'd figured out Pansy's and Daphne's cycles.

Looking at Harikleia, Draco saw all the signs, now, that he'd used to determine if it was safe in the Slytherin Common Room. On a weekend, if you saw a girl still wearing her night shirt this late in the day, you stayed away. Any encounter was a risk. He really should have recognized that earlier, when he'd spotted the girl in the kitchen before his Potions lesson.

Draco was a bit worried that she'd poison him, after he realized just how poor a timing his first attempt at hitting on a girl was. The girl's smile had fooled him. He hadn't noticed the signs he'd learnt from the Slytherin girls in his year. He'd never have a chance with Harikleia again, he was sure, at least not this summer.

It was a shame, because there was something about her that attracted him. Draco wasn't sure exactly what it was though. Several times, as his eyes caught sight of that tangled red hair, he found himself trying to describe the nimbus of fire that framed the troubled face. Words like scarlet, auburn, and red failed to describe the strands that seemed to float around that head. The eyes were not green, they were emerald portals into the soul.

It actually disturbed him a bit that he could see a girl for the first time, and suddenly it was like the girl was everything. When he tried to step back, it was wrong, but the moment his eyes caught the tendrils of fire that was her hair, he found himself lost again.

"Draco?" Uncle Severus asked. Professor Snape was actually his godfather, not an uncle. He didn't actually have any uncles. Neither did his father. Draco had looked at the family tapestry, there were no brothers in the direct line for seven generations back. His grandfather had two older sisters though.

He shook his head and focused on his Head of House, "Sir?"

"I asked if you noticed the way the potatoes were sliced," Uncle Severus asked.

Draco looked down at his plate. It seemed that they were sliced thin, layered with cheese and butter, with some sort of green stuff sprinkled on them. He hadn't really paid much attention to the dish, just filling his plate with it as the dishes were placed in the center of the table. "Not really Uncle Severus."

"That is the thickness I was trying to get you to cut, consistently," Uncle Severus said. "I believe this was your dish, Ginger?"

"No, Harry did this," Ginger replied. For some reason Uncle Severus shot her a brief glare at her replied. "I did the bread and the tart."

"Harikleia, then," Uncle Severus said addressing the girl that Draco was still having a hard time keeping his eyes off. "What would have happened if you had not sliced the potatoes the right thickness."

"It wouldn't cook up right, sir," Harikleia replied. "If they were too thin, they'd crisp on top too much. Too thick and they might not be cooked enough. Of course, baking time can be adjusted a little for that, but not much, not if you want the cheese and butter to layer right."

"And if you were inconsistent with your thickness?" Uncle Severus prompted.

"No way to adjust your baking time, at all," Harikleia said. "It's not going to be done right. Some is going to be too crisp, and some is not going to be cooked at all. It's going to be ruined."

"Judging from this, I would say that your consistency and thickness were acceptable," Uncle Severus said, before turning back to look at Draco. Draco barely managed to look towards his godfather in between bites. "I found consistency in ingredient preparation to be a real issue in your class this past year, especially in regards to slicing and chopping ingredients. In fact, much as I am loath to admit it, if I were grading just ingredient preparation, most would not even make acceptable, and only Potter would get an outstanding from me."

There was a brief silence after that statement. Draco wondered if his godfather's nieces even knew how rare it was that the Potions Professor gave outstandings, or especially admitted that Potter was deserving of one. It wasn't exactly uncommon for his godfather to say that Potter was better than you with something in a private setting. That was usually done in a scathing tone, intended on motivating you. It worked quite well for Draco.

Draco's eyes were once again drawn back to Harikleia**. **She seemed to be blushing. Draco didn't understand why, though. Then the girl swallowed, and looked at Uncle Severus with an expression that Draco not quite sure what it indicated. Her jaw was set firmly, and her eyes seemed to bore into the Potions Master.

"Why don't you grade that way?" Harikleia asked, before looking back down "I never, I mean, if we don't know where we're wrong, how can I fix it."

Uncle Severus appeared to be considering it. "Perhaps," he said. "In any case, your ingredient preparation is outstanding, as is Ginger's. In general, I have found that students who cook are better at potions. I should, however, give you both more time in my potions lab. Ginger, I understand that Doctor Chalice does not expect you back tomorrow morning."

Draco only heard the sound of Ginger's reply. His eyes were back on Harikleia. Why oh why did he have to be ensnared by someone with whom he had absolutely no chance with. She couldn't be going to Hogwarts, as she was obviously Draco's age, and he would have noticed a defiant green-eyed red-head in class. There was no way to keep his eyes away from the flame that surrounded the girl's face, and those deep green eyes. He'd heard several girls talking about Potter's eyes, and until now he had no idea as to the draw of emerald depths.

He sighed and took another fork full of the delicious cheese and potato dish, made by a goddess. There was no way he'd taste her lips, so the taste of the food she'd made would have to do. The new feelings filling his mind and body confused him. Girls were supposed to be gross, but they weren't, anymore. Something had changed for Draco, in the last few months, and only now, as he sat across from Harikleia, did he realize what girls really were. They were sirens, drawing him in.

He tried to focus on other things, but it seemed that his thoughts and eyes kept getting drawn back to the unreachable girl. Draco Malfoy knew there was no hope for him. These were his godfather's nieces, practically first cousins, and out of his reach. And even if they were to be his reach, they obviously hated him.

If only he hadn't put that hand on her hip. If only she hadn't blown a hole in the possibilities of his first bout of attraction. If only they weren't fleeting angels in his life, destined to leave his life at the end of the summer, forever seeing him as a leech.

If only he could be a little boy again. Maybe then he wouldn't be so caught and confused by these feelings.


	11. Preventive Dosing

_**Author's Notes: **__The muse is really jumping around. That being said a lot of the chapters that have been posted in the last month have been just been holding at the last scene. This chapter of this story was not one of them. It got stuck after the first scene. I'm happy to say that it is moving a lot quicker now._

_For this chapter I'd like to thank the following for their assistance: Matt Arnold, Callum, Alysson deMerl, Clell, and the irreplaceable Jim Trigg._

* * *

**Chapter Ten**: Preventive Dosing

Since Harry had acquired his longer red hair, he'd developed a habit of twirling it around his left index finger when he was thinking hard. It had started as a fascination at the color, and the fact that Professor Snape had said that it was exactly like his mother's hair. He'd had to look at it, and wonder.

Professor Snape had even found a picture of himself with Harry's mother, as well as one of just his mother. Both of them now resided in frames on Harry's night stand, along with matching pictures of Harry with Professor Snape. They'd went to great lengths to find the exact place that the pictures had been taken. Harry had even found a matching green sun dress to wear, though it had immediately been put away never to be worn again, as it made him feel a bit uncomfortable, especially since it couldn't be worn with any of her bras.

At the moment she was sitting on the chaise longue in Doctor Chalice's front room, trying to figure out what to say. Earlier conversations had pretty much exhausted the Dursleys, and as for her current state as a girl, well, she was used to it now, and knew it was just for part of the summer. In fact she'd just found out that there was a good chance she'd get to go to the Burrow, possibly as early as the tenth of August. When that happened she'd be able to get off the suppression potion. It couldn't happen too soon.

A cover of a book caught Harry's eyes. "You know, I can talk to snakes."

"I had heard that."

"It's not a good thing. It seems like every time I get something special, it bites me. Apparently being able to speak parseltongue is a sign of a seriously evil wizard. After I spoke it at the bloody dueling club, every one was shunning me, and were calling me the Heir of Slytherin as a dark wizard. They were saying that I was just like the dark lord that killed my parents! I'm not evil! I'm good. No one ever believes me. Well, accept for Ron and Hermione, and Hermione ended up petrified. They just think the worst of me. Slytherin's Heir!"

Harry found that his eyes were filled with tears again. Doctor Chalice had told him that he wasn't supposed to hold them back, not in this room. In this room, fine was not an answer. In this room, everything could be said, and nothing would get out. Harry was not a very trusting boy – at the moment, he wasn't a boy at all, actually – but he trusted that. So, the tears flowed, and the remembered frustration was expressed by his hands being thrust into his hair, and then spreading it out wildly as his hands flew out.

"You know, under ancient wizarding law, you probably could actually claim to be Slytherin's heir, now," Doctor Chalice said.

Harry looked at the doctor incredulously. The sudden interjection was a bit of a shock. The doctor rarely interrupted a rant, preferring to let them run out naturally, for the most part, and Harry had felt one building. "Really?" he couldn't stop from saying.

"Albus assures me that You-Know-Who's claim has some basis in fact, and by defeating him in near mortal combat three times, if the law was sill in use, you could claim his titles," Doctor Chalice said. "Now, tell me, how do you think you should deal with the next time someone calls you a seriously evil wizard, Dark Lord, or the like?"

"You actually think I can deal with them? Draco and his gang have been after me since right after I was sorted into Gryffindor. I've never found a way to deal with them. I just kind of try to survive them."

"Don't just survive."

"Surviving is what I do best," Harry said. "That and saving people. My role in life is apparently being pounded down until I'm needed to save someone. Then suddenly I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread.

"I go from Quidditch star to late night pariah. I save someone from a snake, and they accuse me of making it attack them! Can't I at least have one year where everything goes at least fair?"

"Perhaps this year will be the year," the Doctor said, as Harry flopped back down on the chaise lounge.

"I doubt it. I'll probably be attacked by a demonic horde this year, or maybe vampires."

"Then I'd stock up on the holy water," Doctor Chalice dead panned. "And learn how to sprinkle it at a great distance."

Somehow that struck Harry as funny. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly giggling. It felt good. He let himself go, flopping back on the chaise longue until the giggle naturally concluded. It felt good to giggle.

Only when the giggling stopped did Doctor Chalice start again. "Since you brought up Draco, I have to ask, how do you plan on dealing with him? It seems that he is quite a source of turmoil in your life."

"Oh is he," Harry confirmed. "You know, if he hadn't insulted Ron when we met the second time, I might have tried to be his friend? It probably wouldn't have lasted though. He's a bigot and bully. I can't stand him."

Then he paused for a moment, and recalled Malfoy's visit. "You know he tried to hit on me when he visited last week? It was just after my period started, and I had to tell him to get his hand off my hip or he'd never lift it again."

"And would you have said the same thing if he'd encountered you alone and insulted you during your first and second year at Hogwarts."

"No." Harry stated.

"And why not?" Doctor Chalice asked.

"It never does any good. It just makes things worse, and no one would believe how it started when it escalated."

"I see," Doctor Chalice replied, meeting Harry's eyes. "And has it escalated when you didn't say anything."

"Yes," Harry said, recalling one nightmarish journey from Potions to the Great Hall during his second year shortly before the Dueling Club incident.

"And what was different about that time, and when you stood up for yourself against Draco?"

Harry was silent for a moment, thinking about the two incidents. He hadn't said anything and Draco had kept following him, delivering insult after insult, slur after slur, making Harry cry. "I let him get to me," the words escaped his mouth without thought. "I let him define what I was, and what I could be. When Draco hit on me though, it made me feel sick. I couldn't stand it, I couldn't allow him to even say another word that showed he thought I was something he could possess. I would have crushed his hand if he hadn't moved it. I didn't let him define me."

"Remember that. Don't let them define you. Stand up for yourself, not just for your friends. You are important for what you are, Harry."

"But what am I?" Harry asked. "Am I the Boy-Who-Lived, not that I'm a boy at the moment, some hero for something my mother did before I was even old enough to remember? Am I the freak, whose magic apparently ruined my uncle's life? Or am I just Harry, about to be third year Gryffindor, seeker, but no one special."

"What you are, Harry, is for you to define. Others may call you this and that, and try to slot you into their definitions, but it is only you who can choose what you are, what you live up to. You can be the hero, like you were to Ginny. You can be the star, catching every snitch. You can be the student, always learning, and trying to be better. You can even some day be a husband and a father, raising children of your own. It is your life, and your decision."

"I wish that was true," Harry said, slumping back into the chaise lounge.

"Someday, you will make it true."

* * *

Ginny Weasley watched as Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle left Spinner's End. She'd been allowed to attend what Professor Snape had called remedial potions for just finished Second Years, as a just finished First Year. They'd made three potions before the Slytherins had to depart. Ginny had been the only one to correctly finish all three.

She'd even been praised by Professor Snape for her efforts. Gryffindors were never praised for their work in potions. But as Ginger Prince, she'd got praise. Professor Snape had even made her show the others how to properly back slice ingredients.

It was probably a good thing that Harry had to go to see Doctor Chalice, as he wouldn't have been able to stand Parkinson's remarks about him. If there was one thing that made Harry go out of character, it was remarks about his real identity, particularly when they were saying things that were absolutely false about him.

"Ginny," Professor Snape said from behind her. "Please join me in the lab. I have a few potions that I want to run through with you."

"Yes Professor," Ginny said, spotting Harry leaving Doctor Chalice's house. "It looks like Harry's on the way back. Should he join us."

Ginny turned around in time to see the Potions Master's frown. The professor stepped past her to look out the door. "Normally I wouldn't consider it, but perhaps today. If you will go down to the lab and put up the potions that my Slytherins made, I shall talk to him first."

Ginny went down the hall, into the kitchen, and then through the door to the steps leading to the basement. There really wasn't much to put up. Crabbe hadn't even started the third potion when the time allotted was up. Still, she carefully labeled each potion and placed it on one of the racks labeled students. She'd actually spent more time down in the potions lab than Harry, and knew exactly where the professor liked everything to be stored.

The arrangement wasn't quite like the stores in the classroom at Hogwarts. For one thing, it was maybe a third of the size. There were also some very costly ingredients stored rather openly. Ginny was sure that some of them would have been under lock and key at Hogwarts, but here they were not.

By the time Professor Snape returned to his lab, everything was in place. The potions were on the rack for evaluation, the ingredients that were not used were carefully placed in containers, and the tables had been cleaned.

"How long have you been doing advanced potions?" Snape asked as soon as he reached the foot of the stairs. "Watching you work with Parkinson leads me to believe that you know a lot more than I expect from someone who has just completed her first year."

"I've been helping Fred and George with their prank potions since they came back from their first year at Hogwarts," Ginny said, shrugging. "You can't get in trouble for doing potions underage. I help Mum with her cleaning potions too."

"Last September, a prank was played against my Slytherins," Snape said. "A masterful one, that I secretly found quite well done, and thus punished your brothers a great deal less than I would have otherwise. It involved a great deal of shrinking solution, something that I'm quite aware that your twin brothers have some difficulty making. I'm also aware that they are quite unlikely to be able to afford the purchase of the quantity necessary to shrink and place every Slytherin boy in their year into a dollhouse for the day."

"Please tell me someone got pictures?" Ginny asked. "They said they weren't able to, and promised that I'd get to see the occupied dollhouse we built. Well, they built, since I did the potions for them."

"Parkinson has pictures," Snape said. "Tell me, how do you brew a shrinking solution?"

"Start with five sliced caterpillars, preferably deilephila porcellus; the slice should be on the underside, and not complete, done right before placing them in the cauldron filled a third full with water," Ginny began. "Heat until they dissolve, stirring very slowly counter clockwise. Potion should be red. Peeled shrivelfig should be added slowly, with all liquid having been shaken off before adding. When the potion turns yellow, stop adding. Bring the potion to a simmer, and wait for it to turn purple. Then add four rat spleens, which should be filled with minced daisy roots. Stir in a figure eight until the daisy roots cause it to turn green. Poor the resulting potion into cool cauldron, containing five drops of leech juice and a second shrivelfig. Stir until it turns pink. Add one more sliced caterpillar, preferably smerinthus ocellatus, this time sliced completely through in no more than an eighth inch thick disks. Allow the potion to simmer until it turns a brilliant green. Bottle and cap with cork."

"And the resulting strength of the solution?" Snape asked.

"A standard teaspoon dose will shrink the average human to one eighteenth of their size for eighteen hours," Ginny replied. "Properly mixed, it can be baked into ginger snaps without a reduction in affected size, though it will make it last four hours longer, due to the ginger."

Snape looked at the just completed first year Gryffindor. Ginny could feel him weighing options as he considered her answers. Then he looked away, and headed over to his common ingredient stores. "Do we have enough stocked in the kitchen to make ginger snaps ?" he asked.

"I think we're low on ginger," Ginny replied, thinking to what she'd seen upstairs. "But I'm not sure."

"Check, and we'll send Harry to get what needs to be obtained," Snape said, pulling down ingredients. "We will be making shrinking solution this afternoon."

* * *

Severus Snape sat in his study considering a bottle filled with shrinking solution. There was no way around it, he had a student who was in the wrong year of potions. In fact, he was considering the possibility that Ginny Weasley might fit better in Fifth Year potions with her brothers. At the very least he was going to move her to third year potions. She made a better shrinking solution than he could.

He had used just Smerinthus ocellatus in his solution, a solution that the common texts didn't tell which caterpillar to use. More advanced texts advised that the caterpillars be alike as possible. When he'd questioned Ginny, she'd said that she'd found that you had to match the first five, but which one you used for the last one seemed to affect the strength. It had been an accident that she'd tried something else, an accident that had her twin brothers and Ron spending after dinner until nearly dinner the next day in her dollhouse.

Severus had already determined that he had seriously misjudged Harry. He wasn't skip a year in potions material, but Harry was a lot better when not under pressure than expected. It had made him wonder how others would preform with a less stressed environment. His Slytherins did seem to do better when he pulled them into a more private lab for help, or invited them over during the summer. Perhaps he should test it with a few non-Slytherin invites to Spinner's End.

He grimaced as he realized that it would mean that more of his students would know where he spent his summers. Well, most of his Slytherins knew, already. It was not a great secret, just not one that spread to other houses.

The question was who should he start with?

He stepped out of his study and looked towards the door. It appeared that Harry was on the phone again. That could mean that one of two people had called, Dudley or ...

"Hermione, I'm not going to talk about that," Harry said. "Not over the phone at least."

...Granger then. "One moment, Harry," Severus interrupted. Harry placed his hand over the receiver. "You may invite Miss Granger over for your birthday, but she must be willing to keep your identity and location secret. I shall also require that she do one potion in my lab."

Severus watched as a rare smile brightened Harry's face. It was a smile that made her look so much like her mother had in happier times when he and Lily had been Harry's age.

"Sorry Hermione, the Professor wanted to tell me something," Harry said. "He says that you can come over for my birthday!"

Severus turned quickly away, more out of habit than anything, hiding his expression at Harry's glee. He knew the boy turned girl had not had any good birthdays before. Letting a friend come over was the least he could do. Of course he was really doing it to help him reconsider his class evaluations, he told himself. He shook his head. No, inviting the insufferable Gryffindor know-it-all really did nothing for that.

"You just have do a potion with the Professor, and keep my real name secret here," Harry said as Severus returned to his study.

Severus was sure that if there was one visitor that Harry could have from his friends who wouldn't out him it was Hermione Granger. He certainly wasn't going to invite Ron Weasley over, even though he had Ginny here. Both Ginny and Harry had become a lot better at playing their roles since that first visit of Draco to Spinner's End. Of course, allowances should be made for the fact that Harry had been on her period, not that he was going to admit that. They'd been much better with the last few of his Slytherins' visits. They'd even properly played their roles when a muggleborn and his parents had came to visit last week.

Still, inviting over any Weasley boy was a risk, no matter how much he wanted to tease out the abilities of those infernal fraternal twins. There might be a way though, especially if he could arrange for a day where they were the only ones he had to worry about. He would have to think about that.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore had been invited to visit Spinner's End over a week before, by Harry Potter. He'd been a little too busy at the time. So it was late evening nine days later when he finally stepped out of the pouring rain into the entry of Number Seven Spinner's End. It was not the first time he'd visited Severus's ancestral estate. In fact he'd assisted Severus in installing the concrete tables in his basement lab. Severus had not wanted any magic used to set up the tables, and Albus had spent the next two weeks with an aching back.

Severus always required that you arrived at his door by normal means. He was not on the floo nor was it possible to apparate into his house. Albus was not certain how he'd managed the latter, but it seemed that all of Spinner's End was in a no apparation zone. So Albus had to dress in muggle clothes, arrive in the park, and walk to Spinner's End. He thought that the mauve jacket made him look rather spiffy.

Reaching the door of Number Seven, he rang the bell, only to hear the response of "Enter." Opening the door he found the speaker to be standing on the landing of the stairs, about five steps up from the floor. He hadn't seen the young girl before, but the deep green eyes focused right on his gave little doubt as to who it was that invited him into the house, even given the changes.

"Good Evening, Harry," Albus said to the flame haired maiden standing, her arms crossed as she glared down at him. She wore a blue-silver reflective tank top over a pair of faded blue jeans. Somehow she projected an air of cold fury, even in the heat of the late summer day.

"At the moment, thanks to you, it's Harikleia Prince," Harry said icily. "Thanks to you I'm not spending the summer as an about to turn thirteen-year-old boy, but unnecessarily changed into a girl who just finished her first period five days ago. I'd ask what you were thinking by making me go through this, but then I really should start by asking why you left me in on a doorstep in a cold November night hoping that my magic hating aunt would take me in? Ever think that I was a toddler who could have gotten up and walked away?"

"Protections were cast to prevent you from waking up until your aunt picked you up, and the basket had a rather good warming charm on it," Albus said. "That being said, I must admit to making a rather poor choice in your placement. Unfortunately, though I did tell your parents; 'tempus fugit, memento mori,' they chose not to leave a will. In those cases, the closest living relative receives custody, which was your Aunt Petunia."

"And you never checked up on me," Harry growled, her eyes flashing.

"I did ask Mrs. Figg to look in on you from time to time," Albus replied, trying to keep himself from looking away. "Unfortunately I often find myself without a great deal of time. I'm afraid that I have been shanghaied into more roles due to the curse of insufficient reluctance."

"That doesn't explain why you thought turning me into a girl for the summer was a good idea," Harry demanded firmly.

"No one will see a girl as being the Boy-Who-Lived," Albus replied. "As you are not under the protective wards at you Aunt's and Uncle's house, it is very important that you be protected as much as possible. Protection by redirection, coupled with the not inconsiderable talents of Professor Snape, was the best I could arrange. And I can not tell you that Voldemort's followers are not after you still. Last summer we convicted someone who used the Imperious Curse on a London cabbie trying to get him to follow you home with the intent of killing you.

"I have made many mistakes over the years, but I will not make more of them by providing an insufficient disguise. I know you are not known to lie. You do not tell stories, preferring silence to letting things out. I was afraid that a slight change would not be enough to allow anyone to dismiss the inevitable mistakes.

"You, as well as Miss Weasley, needed the assistance that Doctor Chalice provided. So I arranged for you to get the care you needed. I suppose you could have traveled back and forth from Privet Drive, but that would have left you in the very place that had harmed you in the first place. So, you needed to stay elsewhere, and that is why you are staying with Professor Snape. I imagine that it has not been a bad place to stay?"

Harry ducked her head, no longer meeting Albus's eyes. "No." Then after a pause, right before Albus was ready to continue, she said, "It's actually been rather nice."

"I admit that there was something of a risk to you staying here, given the number of students of a certain house that tend to come by for extra potions study, but as I said, they will not see you as the Boy-Who-Lived."

Albus barely heard Harry mumble, "I wish they would do that at Hogwarts."

"So I needed to hide you. Miss Weasley gave me the best opportunity to do so. A single student staying with Professor Snape is suspect, but a pair of sisters? Especially with a man whose family is not known to many? No, no one will suspect you are staying here. It would not have worked if you remained as you had been. So I found a potion to change you. A spell could be reversed. That limited me somewhat. There are minor change potions, but they tend to be poisonous when used too long. Genetic suppression potions though are ideal, if a bit archaic. The particular one I chose is actually one created by accident. I believe that Perenelle was trying to turn a girl into a boy. It didn't work, but when her son accidentally drank the potion, well, you know what it does."

"Yes, it makes me look like the spitting image of my mother," Harry said, still somewhat icily. "Might that be a problem? I mean everyone says I look like my father, save for my eyes that look like my mother's."

"If they were looking for girls, perhaps," Albus acknowledged. "But as I said, they will not be. That they are still looking for you are looking for the boy who lived, and they are still looking for you. No less than six potential tails were distracted to losing where you were going when your Uncle picked you up last Summer. I have not read the report from Alastair on this year's effort.

"No less than eighteen volunteers took polyjuice last year to look like you. Then we changed some hair colors, and did a few other things, and still they followed those as well. Your uncle's habit of running reds helped immensely in losing a few of them. Still the last one to lose their tail was last year's head boy who was a blue-eyed blond version of you wearing a Manchester United T-Shirt. It is a major task to prevent you from being followed home. The wards may prevent them from coming into your neighborhood, but the further out they're stopped, the safer you are."

Harry's mouth had dropped open. It was clear to Albus that she had no idea how far he'd gone to protect her. "You did all that?"

"Yes," Albus confirmed. "This year involved even more aurors and a few more seventh-years than before. I can honestly say that there are a great number of students at Hogwarts that volunteered beyond those we used. I do think that some of it was due to their guilt on the Heir of Slytherin/parseltongue affair, though."

Harry seemed to suddenly find her legs to be weak, at least that's what Albus assumed as the boy-turned-girl found a seat on the steps. Albus moved around the bannister to sit beside her on the steps, though he knew that it would be hard for his old bones to get up from the position.

"Last year when you were in the Hospital Wing, I told you that there was a reason that Voldemort was after you," Albus began, making a decision that he believed was now overdue. He really should have pulled Harry aside after his last encounter with Lucius as the man was on his way out of Hogwarts.

He'd been so serious with his reply to Lucius's somewhat sarcastic line about always being there to save the day. Harry's reply, "Don't worry, I will be," had sent chills down Albus's spine.

"Voldemort went after you because of part of a prophecy that one of his servants had overheard the year you were born," Albus said. "Like many prophecies, acting it may make it more likely that it is a prophecy that applies to you and Voldemort. If you should chose to take Divination next year, and even if you do not, I would recommend having a discussion with Professor Trelawney about acting on prophecies. It is best, therefore, that the exact text be kept secret as much as possible. It foretold that the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord would be born at the end of July that year.

"You were one of two wizards born then that met the requirements in that prophecy. Hence Voldemort went after you and your parents. Due to a betrayal, he was successful, and thus firmly marked you as the one who could defeat him."

"But haven't I already defeated him?" Harry asked.

"You have banished him, but not defeated him," Albus said. "To truly defeat Voldemort, he must be defeated beyond the ability for him to ever return."

"How can I do that?" Harry asked, her voice trembling. "I'm just Harry. I don't know anything special. He's the strongest Dark Lord, ever. I'm just Harry."

"You will be able to," Albus promised. "Starting in September, I shall make time to personally tutor you in how to defeat Dark Lords. As the one who defeated the last one, it is only right that I do so. Meanwhile, you need your Summer to recover from the past. You must return to Hogwarts fully healed, relaxed, and ready to meet the challenges. Can you do that for me, Harry?"

"I will," Harry said, in a tone that matched the one that he'd used that day after the Chamber.

"Good," Albus said. "Then, if you'll help me up, I understand there is still some left of your most excellent apple pie. Severus says it should not be missed, and I've never found him to be wrong about dessert."


End file.
